


but we'll still have the summer after all

by readfah_cwen



Category: Glee
Genre: Depression & Recovery, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 96,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6061741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readfah_cwen/pseuds/readfah_cwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his engagement ends with Kurt, Blaine ends up seeking sanctuary in L.A. with his brother (which may have been a mistake – to be fair, he never thinks straight when heartbroken.) Cooper, tired of his moping, decides to take a reluctant Blaine on a cross-country road trip in an RV, planning on hitting every state they can. Along the way, they pick up Rachel (in hiding after her pilot bombed) and Sebastian (celebrating his last summer of freedom before Ivy League responsibilities kick in). It makes an odd trip even odder, but Blaine is surprised to realize that it may be exactly what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. screaming from the overpass

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Blaine Anderson Big Bang 2015](http://blaineandersonbigbang.tumblr.com/). Whew. Can't believe I finished this.
> 
> My artist is the wonderful voices_echo on tumblr, who created these amazing pieces for it: [x](http://voices-echo.tumblr.com/post/139634523550/but-well-still-have-the-summer-after-all-fic-by) and [x](http://voices-echo.tumblr.com/post/139627388030/but-well-still-have-the-summer-after-all-fic-by).
> 
> Warnings: Depression, and therapy -- this is a fic about healing. Frequent alcohol use. Age difference between Cooper and Rachel is nine years, in case that squicks you. More specific warnings will appear on chapter-by-chapter basis as needed.

**APRIL**

It took talent to flunk out in the last month of classes.

Blaine sighed, folded his shirt, set it aside. He was packing. Boxes of things that were going to be shipped back to Ohio, because he was going back to Ohio, because he’d flunked out of NYADA in the last month of classes because he --. Well. How did he explain that? He’d told his parents (who required individual calls, twice he had to drag the sad story out from where it burned at the back of his throat these days) that he’d let his personal issues distract him and so not turned in any final work and stumbled through his exams. And slept through one. That was still a mystery -- he could have sworn he’d set his alarm.

(He couldn’t actually swear that. He knew he’d not. But he was treating himself to lies, right now.)

He had also mentioned, casually, that he and Kurt were no longer engaged. No longer dating. No longer. No; a firm denial, the _“maybe I don’t_ ” still ringing in his ears. Between that and everything he kept tucked away behind his voice box, Blaine was starting to fill up with words like a stoppered tap. Not even music could relieve that pressure. So there was that. Blaine couldn’t sing, couldn’t perform, couldn’t even get himself to play _Chopsticks_ or do some jazz hands or do his hair or get out of bed or imagine there was any way out of this hole.

 _Remember how it was last time_ , he told himself, but truth was _last time_ had ended when Kurt had taken him back and that wasn’t an option anymore. Not because Kurt wouldn’t take him back, but because Blaine didn’t really care if Kurt would deign him worthy of that. Blaine was -- oh, Blaine was angry, and he pressed it away into the neat creases on his favourite pants and kept packing and packing and removing himself neatly from New York. It was no surprise Kurt had gotten the city in their play acting divorce -- because they were just _kids_ , and it had all been play acting, _apparently_ \-- because Kurt knew how to mark what was his.

Kurt also knew how to mark what didn’t belong in his world. Blaine was intimately familiar with the sensation.

He threw the next shirt in with more energy. Unkind, unkind. If he was being honest -- and right now, that seemed the ugliest thing -- then he’d admit that he hadn’t brought his whole life to New York. He’d left behind some of his favourite clothes, photographs, other little things. He’d been a little unsure about stripping his childhood bedroom bare, because what happened when he came back? And he’d thought about it. Told himself he was picturing Christmas visits but, well -- he’d never had that kind of family. No, no, he’d just wanted a retreat. A place where he was always king of the castle, a place to lick his wounds.

Blaine was practically psychic. He could open up a booth.

Just as he was ready to tackle his bowties -- they required special packaging, you couldn’t just throw them rough and tumble in a box despite Sam’s suggestions when he’d helped Blaine pack them all to go to New York under a year ago -- his phone began to buzz. Blaine picked it up, heart thumping in his throat, but it was only Cooper. It had to be the first time he’d ever felt that relieved to see his brother’s name.

Still, he considered letting it ring, paralyzed by a vague sensation whose indefinable nature only made it all the more frustrating, and only his guilt at ignoring yet another responsibility had him answer it.

 _“_ Hey, Coop _.”_

 _“Baby brother!”_ Cooper’s grin could be heard over the phone. He’d practised to make sure. _“How goes packing?”_

He hadn’t told his brother about his failure and subsequent self-exile. He hadn’t _wanted_ to.

“Did mom tell you?”

“ _Dad_.” Cooper only called Blaine’s dad _dad_ himself about half the time, so Blaine struggled, mind feeling a bit honey-slow these days, with what the hell Cooper meant. Cooper’s biological dad was a Mystery, after all, capitalization all Cooper’s. “ _He’s worried about you.”_

“He doesn’t have to be.”

 _“Yeesh, yeah, okay, sure buddy._ ” Cooper’s eye rolls were also audible. “ _Listen, I got an offer for you.”_

“I’m flattered, Coop, but I really don’t need any more copies of your masterclass …”

_“No, no, though you can never have enough of that. I really did knock that one out of the park, didn’t I? Best emotional tornado I’ve ever done …”_

“Coop?”

_“Hm?”_

“The offer?”

“ _Oh yeah. I was going to ask, if you’re leaving New York and don’t want to be the sad sack who ends up back in Ohio, how about you come out West?”_

“Like -- to L.A.? With … _you?_ ”

 _“And why do you say it like that!”_ Cooper humphed. “ _I’m your big brother. Who better to crash with for a while? And you loved my place, last time you were here.”_

Blaine had seen it exactly once, for about five minutes, when he’d been in L.A. for Nationals and had gone to pick Cooper up for lunch. A beautiful place, to be sure, sleek and modern and very Cooper and very un-Blaine.

“I don’t know …” Blaine rubbed a hand along his face. “I kind of just want to go home.” It hurt to admit. _Sad sack._ Was it so wrong to just want to spend a month with the covers over his head until the world righted itself?

 _“And why can’t my place be home? Mi casa es su casa_ , _home is where the heart is, uh, hand on let me Google more platitudes_ \--”

“You wouldn’t want me underfoot.”

“ _A_ _re you kidding? I want to spend time with you!”_ Cooper repeated this mantra at least once a month since their emotional Gotye-fueled breakthrough a few years ago, though his ability to actually follow through on it was negligible. _“And be honest. Do you think what your heartbroken self needs is to be around mom and dad in total divorce mode?”_

A fair point, but then again, Blaine had spent more time with their mom than Cooper and had to point out the flaw to this logic.

“See, that’s a reason to go home, they need me --”

“ _They don’t need you._ Mom _doesn’t need you. She’ll use babying you as an excuse to not do her thing, and then she’ll suck at babying you, and you’ll call me and complain all_ ‘Wah, Coop, I am _not_ baby!’ _and I’ll laugh at you and then call mom and she’ll admit what she_ really _needs is to travel somewhere and you’ll wake up to find she’s on an Alaskan single’s cruise where she’s met a Fortune 500 CEO who is going to move her into his European castle and you need to come play nice with your new stepbrothers Hans and Sven. Who will look like the Winklevoss twins, for the record.”_

It was perhaps the most insightful thing Cooper had ever said. Blaine laughed, full of fondness for his mother and brother both, which was maybe why he said,

“Okay. Maybe it’s not such a crazy idea.” He allowed himself to imagine it, the way he’d rarely let himself fantasize lately. Sunny L.A. in the summer, Hollywood and the surf, his favourite bright colours and wandering the boardwalk, falling in love with another big city that Kurt Hummel had never even visited. A life, maybe, somewhere far from here. “Can I call mom? Talk it over with her first, though?”

_“Uh-huh. You know my number.”_

Cooper hung up, and Blaine gathered himself, called his mother.

\--

The decision was official within the hour. Blaine was shipping his things to L.A. instead, and he’d be out there by this time next week.

(It would never cease to terrify him, just how quickly plans could change.)

\--

Cooper met him at the airport, which was a miracle unto itself.

“Blainey!” He wrapped Blaine up in a big hug, and Blaine sank into it, smiling and winding his arms around Cooper, tugging on his jacket. Cooper gave the best hugs. When he’d been eight and Cooper had just taken off for L.A. he’d drawn up a Pros and Cons list of keeping that jerk as his brother, and one of the main Pros has been these hugs. It had outweighed such points as, _He got angry at me for being sad about him leaving and whapped me_ and _Calls me stupid all the time_ and _Always dips celery in the peanut butter and leaves gross green strands in it_. “How was the flight?”

“Not bad.” They rotated naturally so they were flush, side-to-side, Cooper’s arm over his shoulders as they walked. “Shorter than I expected. How have you been?”

“Good, good. I have an audition for this weird sci-fi thing next week, so you get to help me practise!” Cooper bounced a little, squeezing Blaine closer. “I know you love that nerd stuff. Oh and did I tell you, I bumped into Michael Bay at Whole Foods the other day. Can you believe him? Having the nerve to take the last kale-quinoa smoothie mix from under my hand after not casting me and giving it to some hack instead? He didn’t even seem to recognize me … what a tool.”

“Indeed.” Blaine nodded. “But you’ll show him up. Tell me about this sci-fi thing.”

“Some space thing. Not Star Trek, but I’d hate to show Chris Pine up. He’s a pretty nice guy. We met at this industry party once, and I had this martini, and he says to me --”

Blaine let Cooper’s mindless chatter wash over him, realizing the biggest benefit of his new living arrangements: Cooper required very little _return_ in his exchanges. Blaine could occasionally smile or nod and Cooper would be off again, and so, Blaine could be spared the effort of trying to talk, picking and choosing the best combination of words to sound as least pathetic or disinterested as possible. He’d spent most of the plane ride agonizing over the idea of Cooper introducing him to people and having to explain why he’d left school.

 _To broaden my creative horizons_. _I want to start acting! I’m too much of an artist for the academic constraints. A year off, a gap year, you know. My fiancé dumped me and I cry in the shower now._

He’d settled on: I want to try something new.

It seemed close enough to the truth.

\--

Despite his worries, introductions didn’t seem to be an issue, because Blaine never left the apartment and Cooper never had anyone over.

It was kind of lonely, in a way that didn’t seem to matter when he could spend an hour just lying in bed doing nothing, mind drifting away in a junction between thought and memory where he could at least feel engaged. Blaine didn’t like it, didn’t like feeling so removed from life outside, from his brother, because it reminded him too much of senior year. _He was my anchor_ . Blaine thought he’d fixed that, but maybe _soulmate_ had just become a cleverly hidden synonym. Blaine didn’t have that anymore, didn’t have Kurt, which meant he needed to do without. He needed to spend time with his brother and go out and do things and not just float in an endless cycle between being in bed and the shower and back in bed, now clean. Do Things. It wasn’t, he reasoned at two in the morning marathoning the old X-Men cartoon, like he had real responsibilities anymore.

He didn’t understand how something could simultaneously induce relief and anxiety in him.

“Still up?”

Blaine dropped back on his heels, looking over to find Cooper entering from a night out. He was making a supply run to the kitchen -- always kind of a stealth mission, despite the open-concept nature of the apartment -- a box of granola cereal in hand, one that he’d actually gotten hooked on while living with Rachel, and he’d been happy to find it here.

(Rachel was somewhere in L.A. and Blaine was Not Thinking about that.)

“Yeah.”

“I remember when you used to not be able to stay up past eight,” Cooper said, coming over and stealing the box from Blaine so he could rummage a handful out. He smelled like beer. “And every New Year’s you’d be so sure you could stay up. And then you’d fall asleep at eight-thirty.”

Blaine smiled at that. “We’d pretend New Year's was at eight, not twelve.”

“Do the poppers then and everything.” They leaned against the counter, beginning a methodical snacking back-and-forth with the cereal. “Did you still do that, after I left?”

“For years.” Blaine rolled a walnut chunk between his fingers. “Then I grew up, I guess. I don’t remember when I started staying up to midnight.”

“What did you do last New Year's?”

“Um.” Blaine didn’t have to think about. He just wondered what to say. “All of us got together, we went down to Central Park. There was a free concert and we drank wine while we sat in the grass and watched fireworks. Santana had this idea that we should write down all our resolutions on one-dollar bills then set them on fire, which we did, and then a cop started to come over so …” Blaine shook his head, laughing at the memory, a second later trailing off and the emotion already fading. “We ran. It was silly.”

Kurt had grasped his hand in the cold grass, drew him close, kissed him as the smoke wound up and around them into the sky. They hadn’t needed to ask what their resolutions were.

“Sounds fun.” Cooper knocked their shoulders together. “I stayed in.”

“Really?”

“Didn’t feel much like going out.”

Blaine stared, ate some cereal, tried to think of what to say. Cooper was _always_ out. The moment he’d realized he was old enough to leave home for hours on end (ten years old, right after Blaine had been born and cried all the time and bugged Cooper) he’d done so. They’d both been such independent children, a relief to their unmotherly mother.

“Your friends didn’t want to …?”

“Nah.” Cooper shrugged. “I got invited to some parties, of course. But I decided none were good enough for me.”

That sounded more like the brother he knew, in a way that made Blaine uncomfortable.                                                                     

“Coop, am I ever going to meet these friends?”

“You wouldn’t like them.” Cooper grinned. “Too cool for you.”

“Oh yeah? What do they do? What are their names?”

Maybe his brother had befriended actual celebrities.

“Nothing and nobody you would recognize … though big deals, stars on the rise, of course …”

“This all seems … vague.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

That was the exact moment when Blaine realized all his agonizing over meeting Cooper’s friends was pointless, because Cooper didn’t _have_ friends. He tried to not let the instant flash of pity show by grabbing another handful of cereal and eating it loudly.

“Mm-hmm,” he said around it, and now Cooper was staring.

“Anyways, I had a point to all this.”

“Hm?”

“That it’s weird to see you stay up so late doing nothing. What’s up, buddy?”

“I,” Blaine choked. “I mean, I have nothing to do, no matter the time of day …”

“That’s not the overachiever I know and love.”

It had to be the first time he’d heard Cooper say he loved him in a long time, which spurned further words from Blaine’s tongue.

“I’m not a very good overachiever, anymore.” Blaine tugged at his pyjama shirt, made sure it lay straight. “I kind of failed at everything, if you didn’t notice.”

“Oh come on. You didn’t --”

“I dropped out. I have no fiancé. I’m crashing in your guest bedroom.”

“So? I didn’t go to college. I’ve never had a serious relationship. I rented a hotel room for three years because I didn’t know how to live on my own. Life’s not a single road, baby brother, you gotta go with the flow sometimes, see where it takes you.”

“Go with the flow.” The words tasted odd. He liked his schedules, thankyouvery _much_. “Sorry, Coop, but I don’t feel like doing anything or going anywhere right now.”

“Breakup blues, yeah?” Cooper poked him. “Do you know what mom’s doing, right now?”

“What?”

“She’s been talking to some shrink at Lima Mental Health.”

“ _Really?”_

“Yeah, I know, right?” One of the things Cooper and Blaine always agreed on, past the timeless beauty of a Duran Duran single, was that their mother was a force of nature, like a hurricane. Unknowable, untameable, unbreakable. Blaine didn’t imagine many storms slipped neatly into the quiet lines of a therapist’s office. “But it’s helping her, you know?”

“That’s good for her.”

Blaine wondered why this hadn’t come up in his own calls with his mom, uncertainty curling in his gut.

“Have you thought …” Cooper raised a pointed eyebrow at him. “You and her, you’re a lot alike. You could probably take a page from her book.”

Blaine flushed. Cooper couldn’t be implying _that_.

“I don’t need therapy. I just need to get over this breakup.”

“And if therapy makes that happen faster?”

“It’s not a magic wand, Cooper, I’ll just go in and they’ll tell me what I already know, that I can’t let this define me, that I’ll survive this, whatever.”

Blaine actually had some therapy experience, a brief stint he’d been forced into after the Sadie Hawkins incident, and was there anything uglier than imagining the post-trauma lessons applied to a break up? _Kurt didn’t take anything from you. Kurt does not mean you will never feel safe again. Kurt is part of you now, but doesn’t define you._ Certainly he owed Kurt more than that.

“And if you can tell yourself that, why are you moping non-stop?”

“Because healing takes time.” That was another one he remembered. One of his least favourites, because he’d always had higher standards for himself than that, but. Anything to talk his way out of this idea.

“Then take the time you need with someone who’s better about talking about this crap than me.” Cooper lay a hand across the nape of his neck, squeezed. “Just think about it, baby bro. You’re not hiding in my apartment because it makes you feel better.”

“It does.” Blaine ducked away from the hand.

“‘Cause my apartment is awesome. Not because you like hiding.”

Blaine shook his head, then took his box of cereal and headed back to his room, where he somehow lost a half-hour to staring at the wall, mulling it over.

Maybe he should call his mom.

\--

Somehow, despite his best intentions, Blaine ended up in therapy.

It turned out that crying in front of a stranger _did_ have a benefit: he was now Officially Diagnosed as Depressed, and therefore the next time he sat on the shower floor and started beating himself up over everything he’d done wrong (a list practically itemized in his head) he could understand Why.

It didn’t fix anything, of course, but it was something.

He nearly called Kurt to tell him, and well, that was something too.

\--

**MAY**

Therapy was, by and all, exhausting. Blaine didn’t like to talk about it, which Cooper respected or didn’t depending on the alignment of the moon or something.

At least the excuse of therapy twice a week got Blaine out of the apartment, and when he did that he decided not to waste the outfit he’d put together and started to explore L.A., which really was a nice city, even if it was not New York. (He tried, with great effort, to not make that a metaphor in his mind.) Cooper joined him, or he didn’t, and sometimes Blaine met cute boys and even flirted, and sometimes that future he’d briefly fantasized about on the phone with Cooper seemed like it could be a reality.

“You can do it,” he’d tell himself in the mirror. “You can be something again.”

Then he’d backslide again, and well, that was normal. That was normal. Blaine was normal, and he’d be fine.

Maybe not _happy_ , but then again, baby steps.

\--

Rachel’s show came out. He watched it with Cooper and well --

It was kind of a total nightmare. Blaine had to watch through his fingers, knees drawn up, while Cooper laughed and clapped and seemed to have a great time watching Rachel’s star plummet and hit the earth in a spray of dirt.

Blaine should go check on her. Blaine didn’t go check on her.

\--

Blaine should vs Blaine didn’t became a familiar dance.

Some days, he felt himself again, top of the world and ready to leave his mark, chatty and energetic and the feelings lasting longer than the moment.

Other days, he was himself again, the other self, the one who cried at nothing and had to lie down a lot, conserving energy that he never spent, times where he stared into an empty fridge and wondered what was even the point.

The good days came back more frequently. The bad days fought to stay.

His therapist Phillipa was with him through all of this, and Blaine had never been so grateful.

\--

**JUNE**

“Come on, don’t be a wimp!”

“I’ve never done this before! Give me a break, Coop!”

“It’s easy!”

“It’s _surfing_.”

“Easy as riding a bike.”

“That’s not the saying.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it isn’t!”

“Excuse me miss.” Cooper turned to a girl in a bikini who had waded near them, adopting a terrible cornpone ‘midwestern’ drawl. “But tell me, is the saying _easy as riding a bike?_ ”

“‘Like riding a bike,’” she said, with a giggle. Cooper sighed dramatically. “Like you never forget it, right?”

“Exactly.” Blaine shifted the surfboard in his hands. “I haven’t learned yet. So I can’t get on it, no problem.”

“Well I’m trying to teach you, so stop whining.”

“Oh, learning to surf?” She came closer, nodding at his board. “Nice kit. I’m Marisol.”

“Blaine. That’s my brother, Cooper.”

Best not to let Cooper introduce himself. He was getting that look in his eyes as he admired Marisol, who was undoubtedly extremely pretty, but even if Blaine wasn’t gay the fact that she had his grandma’s name was a bit weird. He then realized guiltily that he hadn’t called said great-grandma in a very long time, and shifted anxiously on his feet. Maybe he should go do that.

“Cool, nice to meet you.” She looked between them. “If you’re trying to teach him to surf, I can give some pointers. I teach it professionally to tourists.” She flashed a white smile. Cooper gave his own blinding one back. Blaine wondered if he should invest in Colgate strips or something.

“That would be great.” Cooper came closer, gave her a deliberate once over. “You do look very competent.”

Very competent? His brother had no game, because he’d never needed it, looking as he did. Blaine hid his snort in a polite cough, and despite the let’s-go-home desire that was brewing, forced himself to stick to the impromptu lesson until fun actually took hold. And then he was surfing, actually _surfing_ (and falling off his board) and that was --

He didn’t know how to put it.

This was how he’d been spending his summer so far, hair growing out a bit (still judiciously gelled, thank you), tan deepening to the point where he and Cooper looked even less related than they already did, and mornings spent out on Cooper’s balcony, trying to erase any sunglasses or otherwise lines he was getting. Midday brunch with mimosas and spotting celebrities and learning to drive on the nervewracking L.A. roads, new clothes and sand between his toes and Hollywood parties. He’d even gone a date, with cute tall blond who had reminded him of Sam, which ultimately ended up being what put him off the idea of a second date. (He hadn’t contacted Sam in two months now.) There were other boys, ones he even kissed and smiled fondly at. There was amazing food and hopping on tourbuses and swimming and biking and jokingly auditioning for a small commercial role. He’d gotten it, and Cooper had been torn between pride and jealousy, which meant Blaine pointedly turned up the volume whenever it was on TV and you saw him in the background, losing his mind over Old Navy capris. (Not a total piece of acting on his part, as Cooper was fond of pointing out.)

It was the most easy-going summer he’d ever had, no job, no school, no friends, just running around doing his thing and well, therapy yes, and he felt that and dealing with Cooper were both emotionally exhausting enough to mean he’d earned the first real summer break he’d had in years.

It was maybe this ease, this sense of gradually floating upwards like high tide coming in, that meant Blaine didn’t reject Cooper’s next harebrained scheme out of  hand.

And after that? His easy-going summer became something else entirely.

\--

**JULY**

(The whole thing started on the Fourth of July.

His brother had a real flair for the dramatic.)

\--

“So, what do you think?”

“It’s … cute.”

Blaine looked the RV over from front to back. It didn’t take much looking -- it wasn’t very big. She was white on the outside, and otherwise remarkable except for the lime green curtains he could see in the side window. Cooper had shown up with it out of the blue, and it looked more than a little ridiculous parked in the middle of the summery L.A. cars which were parked on Cooper’s trendy rich twenty-something neighbourhood street.

“She’s _awesome_. I’m naming her Kelly.”

“Kelly?”

“After the curtains. Kelly green.”

“That’s lime green.”

“No, it’s kelly.”

“No.” Blaine grabbed his phone. “I’ve got a colourmatch app. I’ll show you -- see, there, look. It’s lime green.”

“Well, Kelly is cuter than Lime, and I paid for her, so she’s Kelly. Come on, check out the inside.”

They entered, and it was hardly much bigger on the inside. The door opened up near the front had a driver’s seat and a passenger’s seat. Behind the driver’s side stretched a low padded bench, and across from that was a tiny table with tinier chairs. Blaine wandered past that, noting there was storage underneath the bench, and that at the end of the bench was a ladder that led up to a loft bed. Blaine clambered up to check it out -- it looked cosy, like the crawlspace in his attic he’d used to hide in when Cooper was chasing him -- then jumped back down. Across from the ladder and not far back from the small table was a door which led to a toilet. Blaine held his breath when he peeked inside, but it was surprisingly okay smelling, and even had a sink and a shower that would risk unclean elbows it you didn’t tuck them in close.

“You’re not going to be able to fit that shower,” Blaine told Cooper.

“Aw, Blainey, good to know you’re seeing the bright side of you being so short.”

Blaine elbowed him as he shut the door, ducking away from Cooper’s retaliatory shove, and then it was to the very back of the RV. This was the kitchenette, with two burners and a microwave and a mini fridge. He sniffed. The weird odours seemed to be here, and he inhaled deeper.

“What’s that?”

“A window?”

“No, that smell.” Blaine had an excellent nose, trained on picking out perfect colognes. With another inhale, he decided, “Mac and cheese. Burnt. And … Cooper, did you buy this from a stoner?”

“This is California. That’s a given.”

“It’s gross.”

“I forgot how straight-edge you are.” Cooper rolled his eyes. “It’s just weed.”

Blaine gritted his teeth. He hated that he was now feeling regret over not accepting one of Stroner Brett’s many offered tokes over the years. How did his brother do this to him?

“I’ll have an asthmatic reaction to this.”

“You don’t have asthma. The Anderson genes are stronger than that.”

“We’re half-brothers!”

“If you had asthma, maybe you would have actually sat still as a kid.” Cooper pulled him in under his arm. “You have to admit, it’s cute!”

“It’s okay.”

It was definitely stylish, despite the cramped size and kush smell -- white wood, dark accents, and streamlined to maximise the little size there. A marvel of interior decorating, every part planned out for perfect functionality. Blaine liked that, but damned if he was admitting that.

“So why did you _get_ the RV?”

“Kelly.”

“Why did you get _Kelly_ then?”

Cooper pulled away, spread his arms wide like he was introducing a circus, grin wide. “We’re going on a roadtrip!”

Blaine blinked.

“I don’t remember being asked if I wanted to go on a roadtrip.”

Cooper waved that off. “Details.”

“It’s not _details_ ,” Blaine gaped. “You can’t just buy an RV and expect me to get in it!”

“Why not?”

“It’s -- it’s crazy!”

“How so? It’s summer, we have nothing else to do, why not?” Cooper punched him lightly in the arm, and Blaine retorted by hitting him back, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. Cooper winced. “Come on, Blainey! You’ve always wanted to do this.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is. You used to plan this kind of crap all the time.”

Blaine chewed the inside of his cheek. It was true. After his big brother had left home, he had studiously planned how to get out to L.A., but his father had stopped those plans in their tracks, while his mother had promised _when he was older_. This had somehow transformed into a desire -- maybe fueled by one too many brotherly bonding shows and movies, including the _Boy Meets World_ plot about curly-haired Cory and his older annoying brother with perfect hair taking to the highways of America together -- to simply travel with his brother. He’d thought if he had Cooper trapped in a car, maybe they’d finally have a real conversation. This dream had lasted right up to when he was twelve and made mention of it, and Cooper had shot him down with a laugh.

And so, Blaine felt entitled to his response then, a sarcastic:

“Oh, so  _now_ you want to spend time with me. Wouldn’t be cramping your style?”

“Hey.” Cooper grabbed his shoulders, shook him slightly. “I’m sorry if you thought I was a jerk. I don’t remember being one, but I know you’re upset.”

That was a step up. Blaine relaxed a touch, annoyance still prickling.

“And I want to make it up to you. Think about it -- the brothers Anderson, tearing up America together.”

“What about Marisol? What about your auditions?”

Cooper gave his usual blissful grin, but Blaine sensed some tension in the corners of his eyes.

“Marisol and I are nothing serious. And my agent thinks it’s a slow season. Perfect time for a vacation!”

“If we’re just doing this because you’ve been dumped …”

“I haven’t been dumped. Who could dump this?”

Lots of people. Blaine bit his tongue on that, considering his brother. Cooper did seem dedicated to this, with a singular passion he normally reserved for himself, and so what if it was because the cute surf instructor had ended things? It wasn’t like they weren’t in a similarly miserable boat in that regard, and Cooper had been surprisingly good about the whole thing. Blaine didn’t know what he would have done if he’d gone back to Ohio, but he wasn’t sure if he would be where he was now, already understanding himself better and actually able to consider himself some form of _engaged_ , even if it was to life and not to his ex.

Kurt hadn’t once contacted him, since the break up. They were both licking their wounds, maybe, and Blaine didn’t know why it hit him them, staring Cooper’s crazy idea down. There was no way that Kurt would be on a road trip this summer. There was no way Kurt would ever _want_ to go on one, never having been travel-prone once he had found the place he belonged. And since Blaine had lost that one spot he’d thought would be reserved for him forever, at Kurt’s side, well, maybe he could stand to do some searching. _Interrogate your own assumptions,_ Phillipa liked to say. _Ask: why am I thinking that?_

Why was he thinking he couldn’t go on this road trip? What was holding him back?

“I have therapy.”

“You’ve been going less.”

Blaine chewed his lip. True. He’d been getting as much from once a week as he used to from twice a week, two months ago. Phillipa was also extremely accommodating. Once, when he’d called to cancel, she’d spent the therapeutic hour with him on the line and he’d come out of it with the confidence that he could not cancel the next one. But if he did, it would be okay. Things would be okay, even if it didn’t happen as he expected.

“I’ll talk to her, see if I can FaceTime her …”

“Is that a yes? Yes. Alright, we leave --”

“No, no. It’s not a yes. It’s, I’m going to think about it, because I’m not going to throw away my progress on a _whim_ of yours that might change --”

“It won’t.” Cooper’s gaze was level, sincere. Blaine squirmed.

“Okay. We’ll see about that.”

“It won’t,” Cooper repeated, and Blaine threw his hands up.

“Just give me three days.”

“Three days. Alright.”

They shook on it, which somehow transformed into a mild shoving/wrestling situation, and then Blaine let Cooper talk him into a drive around the city in the RV. Kelly. Whatever. It was a very powerful feeling, being so much bigger than other cars on the road, and for once people were reluctant to tailgate him. They blasted the radio -- a nice sound system -- and sang along and cranked down the windows and caught some of the sea spray when they took Harbor Drive.

It was -- fun.

Once they got back to the apartment, Blaine already had an idea what he’d be telling Cooper in three days.

\--

They were packed and gone by the next Tuesday.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR LINK](http://boldmistakes.tumblr.com/post/139643331791/but-well-still-have-the-summer-after-all)
> 
> Inspiration for Kelly's interior: [HERE](http://i66.tinypic.com/b5i9uv.jpg). Missing some things, like the table + chairs and the curtains, but you get the general idea.
> 
> In my head, since we didn't get her as Blaine's mom, Phillipa is played by Lea Salonga.


	2. flowers in your hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Blaine/OMC (and Sebastian/OMC, off-screen) this chapter, nothing serious.

“So we should decide on some things now,” Blaine said, a map of the US of A spread out in front of him, red marker in hand. “You said you want to hit every state?”

“Duh. What else is the point?”

Cooper drummed his fingers on the wheel, energy barely restrained. He seemed to be enjoying himself already, and his enthusiasm was infectious.

“Okay. So the most logical path to take would be …” Blaine didn’t let the marker touch the page, sketching out in the air above it a path which would conserve them the most driving time (and gas) and get them back to Los Angeles in the end. Cooper looked over. “Eyes on the road.”

Cooper was an annoyingly good driver, since one of his greatest dreams had been to join the _Fast and Furious_ franchise and had so dedicated himself to some method-acting drag racing experiences, but Blaine still felt vaguely unsafe leaving this giant deathtrap on wheels in his brother’s distracted hands.

“How else am I supposed to see what you’re saying?”

“It’s just a logical path. We can’t just drive at random.”

“And why not?”

“We’ll get lost.”

“Ah, but ‘it's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.'”

“Okay, but common sense says we have a plan too …”

“Ehh. If you say so.”

Blaine sighed. He may have _more_ energy these days, but that didn’t mean he had the energy to fight every point with his brother. They had agreed on San Francisco as their first stop, and that had to be good enough. Maybe when they stopped in Fresno for dinner, he could get his brother to see reason. This sort of re-strategizing had been a valuable skill in his relationship with Kurt, and Blaine hadn’t lost the skills when he’d lost his fiancé.

He wondered what Kurt was doing right now. Their plans for the summer had been _wedding planning_ , and well …

Blaine leaned back, tilting his head so he could watch things out the side window. They were in wine country, long arbours passing by in a whip of grey and green and sandy stone, and it made for a peaceful, repetitive landscape. He watched it, mind drifting to the last fight, which he had so perfectly agonized about that he could recite it if need be. _Labour Day_. September 1st this year, which was about two and a half months away. If they wanted to have the cake done in any kind of reasonable timeframe, they’d have to have finally decided on a flavour. Kurt had nixed doing two different flavours -- “I like creativity as much as that nice guy, but that’s like mixing stripes and plaids” -- and Blaine had nixed Kurt’s favourite choice, the hazelnut, because he just wasn’t really a fan. Kurt hadn’t felt that was good logic, and it wasn’t, so they’d argued. They’d argued about everything, like whether or not they’d serve a surf or turf alternative to the requisite chicken dinner, and whether or not balloons and streamers were tacky as wedding decorations, and what kind of tablecloth would suit them best.

Blaine could have accepted those fights, because they were both stubbornly dedicated to their personal senses of style, but then the fights had spilled out into every other part of their life, like the toothpaste on towels and who had to get the milk. Or maybe -- and he admitted this with the same reluctance he’d admitted to Phillipa that his symptoms had maybe not been a clear-cut origin after the breakup(s) -- maybe their fights over nothing had predated their wedding fights and had more to do with _them_ than a deadline they apparently hadn’t been ready for.

Why weren’t they ready? Blaine hated it. He hated every wincing excuse Kurt had given. Too young. _Soulmates_. Ageless, that was an ageless concept, and Kurt had agreed, hadn’t he? Or had he? Had he ever said it back? Blaine wished he had an objective transcript of their whole relationship to examine under a microscope, but the best he could settle for was an untrusting, ruthless interrogation of his own memories.

If this was growing up, or the last lingering kicks of immaturity, then Blaine was sure he liked neither.

\--

“Hey mopey. We’re here!”

Cooper pulled over, on the side of the road, hitting the blinkers. Blaine mimicked them, looking between Cooper and the FRESNO: THE BEST LITTLE CITY IN THE USA sign.

“We’re going to actually go into the city, right?”

“I want a picture by the sign! Come on!”

Blaine grumbled, and reluctantly let himself out of the RV behind Cooper, his camera in hand. He was using his digital one despite his love of analogue because Cooper always insisted on taking a few shots to guarantee the perfect one, as if his stupid face didn’t tend to look perfect in every photo he’d ever taken. Blaine wasn’t half so photogenic.

“Just put it on there …” Cooper indicated the hood of the RV. Blaine did, set a timer, and headed over to Cooper’s side. They took a few pictures, Cooper mugging hilariously, and Blaine doing his best to smile. If these went up on Instagram, he wanted to make sure any friends who happened to see it knew he was fine.

Just a little photo magic, of course.

\--

After touring the best little city for the day, he and Cooper found a motel for the night.

Cooper commented on the fact that they’d need to buy camping equipment soon, which Blaine agreed with, but for now a bed could do.

Blaine was actually very much looking forward to his, already exhausted even from the simple day’s journey; currently, the entire United States of America was seeming like a daunting task. He kept reminding himself: Well, except Alaska and Hawaii, in hopes that it might lesson the looming anxiety of it all for him. And when that didn’t work -- well, he had a stack of books in the RV, and he planned on reading one.

So, after the night had fallen, Blaine left their motel room to make for the RV.

As he walked, he sighed, stretching. The twilight air was sticky-sweet warm, and he could even see some stars thanks to Fresno’s lower population size; that hadn’t been possible back in L.A., which was ambient and bright but never in a natural way. Blaine admired them, looking up as he made his way over to the RV, and it earned him a collision with someone who shrieked.

Blaine stumbled, looking down to see a tiny woman in a pink shirt and glasses falling back, her black bob cut swinging wildly. He made a grab for her, managing to snag her wrist, and pulling her up.

“Sorry!” Blaine dropped her wrist to make a pleading gesture. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, ma’am.”

“Well, you really should,” she said, brushing her hair away from her face, and they froze at the same time, gazes making contact. “Blaine!”

“Rachel!” Blaine took her in, realizing the familiar things, like the grey skirt and her elegant hands and big brown eyes, behind what had to be fake hipster frames. She looked much the same, though like him, maybe a bit more tan, and with inky black chin-length strands instead of her usual chestnut waterfall. “Hi, wow! How are you? What are you doing here?”

He had to admit, a small roadside motel in Fresno was the last place he’d expect to find Rachel, and yet in her bright, spontaneous nature, it seemed almost natural.

“What are _you_ doing here?” She looked around, peering behind him suspiciously, as if the quiet parking lot hid a terrible secret. “Is Kurt here? Are you two on a honeymoon? You didn’t get married without me, did you, because that’s --”

“No. No, Kurt’s not here.” Blaine bit the inside of his cheek. Why didn’t she know? Had Kurt not told her? Was Kurt still holding out hope for them, seeing this as more of a temporary break than a permanent split? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “And we wouldn’t get married without you -- you’d be Kurt’s maid of honour, you know that.”

“I hoped,” she said, smiling and ducking her chin. “I’m sorry for the accusation, Blaine. I’ve been out of contact with everyone, I guess I feel like life’s been moving on without me.”

Looked like they had something in common. Blaine’s brows furrowed, seeing the new droop to her normally proud shoulders.

“Why?”

“I’ve been in hiding,” she whispered, with another look around. That explained the glasses. “Ever since _That’s So Rachel_ bombed. I couldn’t stand staying in L.A. and have everyone laugh at me, or go back home and hear Kurt say _I told you so_ because I left Broadway for it …” she sighed, miserable.

“Oh.” Blaine reached over, grabbed her hand again with both of his, giving it a squeeze. “You don’t have to hide, you know. Kurt loves you, I’m sure he misses you.”

“I think I’ll let Mr. Hummel miss me a bit longer. I was involved in the _worst television show in history,_ Blaine. I had to delete my email because people were still mailing me complaints!”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad …” Blaine lied nobly, and Rachel huffed.

“It was a nightmare.” She sniffed, touching her hair. “As you can tell, I’ve had to live in disguise now while bearing my shame. I keep thinking TMZ will pop up from behind a bush to harass me.”

“They won’t do that.” Blaine pulled her closer, swinging their hands, trying to chide a smile from her. “And this is just a setback, Rachel. Nothing will keep you down for long.”

“I hope so,” Rachel said gloomily, staring back at him with sad eyes. Then something perked her up. “At least things have been treating you well! You look very handsome. I always knew a tan would look good on you, Blaine Warbler.”

“Thanks.” Blaine smiled, tugged her over to a nearby bench, which they settled on. “I like your hair too. Very _Chicago_.”

“It’s a wig,” she admitted, tugging on one of the strands. Under the yellow light of the wall light above them, it did look less like her own hair. “I couldn’t bear to cut my hair on top of everything else.”

“Understandable.” Blaine nudged their knees together. “So why this motel? Why Fresno?”

“My car broke down here,” she admitted sheepishly. “And I thought, if I had to hide, why not here? I was thinking San Francisco, but …”

She’d decided to stay there. Blaine nodded understandingly at her.

“What about you! Why Fresno? If you’re not with Kurt, why are you here?”

Blaine had been dreading the question, but he figured it was best to get it over with now, some part of him selfishly happy he’d gotten to tell his side of the story first to her. Rachel might have been Kurt’s friend more than his, but he wanted her sympathy all the same.

“I’m on a roadtrip with Cooper.” Blaine looked out over the cracked pavement of the parking lot, the moon barely coming up over the horizon past the freeway. “I’ve been staying with him. Kurt and I, we uh, broke up. So I came here.”

“Oh Blaine.” Rachel placed her hand over his, and they sat there, gripping each other. “What happened? You two were so happy when I left.”

Had they been? Blaine thought so, but maybe … he wished he could trust his brain.

“We just started fighting all the time, after everyone left. And one day it … ended.” Blaine gave a smile that was more bitter than he would have liked, but wasn’t he owed that? “He said that we were too young. They do say highschool relationships never last, but I really did think we’d make it. Guess I was wrong.”

Rachel made a distressed sound. “I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“Yeah, well.” Blaine shrugged, turning back to her with determination. Her eyes were so sad behind her chunky black frames. “It’s been fun, staying with Cooper. I’ve even -- well --” he hadn’t thought he’d admit this to anyone, but Rachel had spent the past few months hiding out in a crappy motel because of her failures and he saw himself reflected in her gaze. “I started to go to therapy. I was really depressed, you know, after the break up.”

She squeezed his hands, and he squeezed back, and added, “And I got kicked out of NYADA.”

“Their loss,” she said firmly. “We don’t need that place, do we?”

He’d almost forgotten she’d left it as well. He wished he could have done that, told Carmen he didn’t need her anymore, instead of her telling him he was _falling short, Mr. Anderson, and this might be a joke to you but it isn’t to me_ …

“We don’t,” he replied, nodding resolutely. He had no idea what he’d do, if Kurt showed up today and asked to have him back. He did know that he’d never go back to NYADA, however. “We can make it on our own.”

“Together!” Rachel shot to her feet, drawing him with her, hold tight and insistent. “We’re in the same boat.”

“I guess we are,” Blaine said. “We can help each other. Turn these lemons into lemonade, right?”

“Exactly.” Rachel looked around the parking lot. “How long are you staying?”

Holding hands, they started to walk her over to the RV, which she must have been looking for. “Not long. We’re headed to San Francisco in the morning.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. Blaine searched for something to brighten it again, about texting and keeping in contact, when they arrived at the RV and her gaze turned calculating. “Is this yours?”

“Yes. Cooper calls her Kelly.”

“So cute,” she cooed. “Do you think … well, I wouldn’t ask, but I have nothing tying me here and I was thinking of going to San Francisco anyways … do you think I could come with you?”

Blaine hadn’t wanted to offer, hadn’t dared to think to offer, because it was one thing to try and steal her sympathy, but quite another to take Kurt’s best friend along for a ride. If she started talking to Kurt again, as she surely would, how would he ask she didn’t tell Kurt a thing about him? How would he maintain this private little bubble he’d started to carve, far away from the sphere of Kurt’s influence? He looked to her, uncertainty hovering on the edge of his tongue, and sensing it she hastily added,

“I won’t stay longer than you want me to. I just -- need to get away from here, and I thought, if we can understand each other …” her own uncertainty stole the rest of her words. Blaine immediately felt a slam of guilt, a new fresh variation for him to choke on. No matter her other friendships, she was his friend. She wanted to be together, and in her way, she was asking for help. He couldn’t say no to that.

“No, no, you can come with us. Stay as long as you like. We’re going to see America.”

“That sounds fun.” Her unsure smile took a bit more confidence at last. “Are you sure?”

“I am.” Blaine dug into his pocket for the key, and unlocked the door. “Come on, see what your new accommodations will be, madame …”

She giggled, and followed him inside the RV. Blaine hit the lightswitch, and she started to walk around, making soft sounds of interest.

“Bit small, but it’ll be an adventure!” She spun around, skirt flaring and bob twirling, and gave him a wide-eyed look. “And Cooper won’t mind?”

“Of course not.” Blaine actually had no idea, but he figured some properly applied little brother guilt might circumvent any complaints Cooper had. “So will you join us?”

“I will!” She bounded over to him, and threw himself into an enthusiastic hug, which Blaine returned, amazed to realize he’d forgotten how she always hugged with her whole person. They had so much catching up to do, still. “I’ll tell the front desk I’m checking out in the morning. Now tell me, where are you going after San Francisco, I want to know _everything_ …”

They ended up sprawled across the bench, talking for a good hour (Rachel commiserating with his pain over Cooper’s refusal to plan anything) until Cooper finally noticed Blaine was gone and called, the buzz startling Blaine out of their discussion about Hollywood Boulevard.

“Sorry Coop,” Blaine said, giving Rachel an apologetic look. “I’ll be in soon.”

“ _Didn’t get lost or kidnapped, did you? Because I do a mean Liam Neeson_.”

“No.” Blaine looked to Rachel. “I bumped into a friend, actually. Rachel, do you remember her?”

“ _Nope!_ ”

“She’s from Lima? Petite brunette? I lived with her in New York?”

“ _Honestly, Blaine, I can’t keep track of all your little friends_ …”

“Well, she’s a very good friend, and she asked if she could join our excursion. Would that be okay?”

“ _Uh_.” Cooper hummed over that. “ _Is she hot?_ ”

“What! Cooper! Gross.”

“ _I’ll take that as a no_.” Cooper laughed. “ _Relax, baby brother. Sure, we can take your friend along. It’s about time you remember you have them_.”

“Shut up.”

“ _You know I’m right_ ,” Cooper sang-songed. “ _Don’t stay out too late. We’re off early tomorrow, and you better not ruin my beauty sleep._ ”

“Yeah, you need all of that you can get.”

“ _Brat_.”

“Jerk.”

Blaine hung up huffily. Rachel was giving him a look, eyebrows drawn.

“So is it okay …?”

“Huh? Yes, it’s fine. He’s just being … Cooper.”

“Ah.” She nodded wisely. “Does he, ah, still wear those leather jackets ...?”

“Rachel, what--?”

“Nothing!” Her face went a bit pink. “We should go to bed. I’ll meet you at eight tomorrow, okay?”

“Alright.”

They parted ways for the evening, and Blaine went to bed with a curious sensation: utterly elated for the next day.

It was a good change of pace.

\--

Next morning, he felt a little less optimistic, but that was mostly because Cooper woke him up by singing _Here Comes The Sun_ directly into his ear. At six am. When Blaine woke up with a start to throw a pillow at his head, Cooper dodged it with ease.

“Time for a jog!” he’d cheered. “Come on, if we’re going to be driving all day, we need to get in some exercise now!”

Blaine had dragged himself out of bed mostly in hopes of wiping the smug look off Cooper’s face -- he might have shorter legs but he was fast -- but the early morning jog through Fresno was nice. By the time they got back to the motel bearing coffee and breakfast, Blaine felt energized, and ate ravenously before showering and dressing for the day. They were checked out and Rachel met them by the RV at eight, as promised, bearing two large wheeled suitcases and a smile.

“Blaine!” They exchanged cheek kisses. “Thank you again for this.”

“It’s no problem,” Blaine assured her. “Come say hi to Cooper, he -- Coop? Hello?”

Cooper was staring, slightly stunned, at Rachel. Then he stepped forward smoothly, extending a hand. When she shook it, he bent down and brought her hand up to his mouth for a kiss.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, straightening again, grinning. “I’m Cooper Anderson.”

“Rachel Berry,” she said. “And we’ve met before, I don’t know if you remember, you came to McKinley to teach an illuminating masterclass?”

“Yeah, I --” Cooper took her in again. “I remember you. You were one of my leads in the NCIS sides reading.”

“I was.” She beamed. “That was so fun, and I learned so much.”

“I live to serve,” Cooper pronounced. He was still holding her hand. Blaine was starting to get a bad feeling about all this, like he’d witnessed a coming storm on the horizon. “So you’re one of Blaine’s schoolmates …?”

“Yes. Well, I was. Twice over, actually. I was a year ahead but he’s very smart, he took a lot of advanced courses.”

Blaine preened a bit at that, but most of his attention was still on their joined hands. He cleared his throat. “You were very smart too,” he assured Rachel, stepping forward to collect her suitcases. “I think we should get these on board.”

“Of course, of course.”

They got into the RV. He’d expected it to seem smaller with three people, but thankfully Rachel’s slight size meant they weren’t bumping into each other and could still breathe. Blaine pulled out the drawers beneath the bench and tucked Rachel’s suitcases inside, next to his and Cooper’s, and then shut it again. Rachel watched him, fascinated, until Cooper took her aside “for the grand tour.” Blaine watched, eyes narrowed, as Cooper winked far more than was necessary as he took Rachel from one side of the small RV to the other. Rachel kept giggling, and tossing her wig back, and Blaine cut them off again with irrational impulse.

“I’ll drive, okay Cooper?”

“Huh? No, no, I’ll drive.”

“Are you sure? You did all the driving yesterday.”

“I’m sure.” Cooper knocked a fist to Blaine’s shoulder, then turned back to Rachel. “Want to sit up front with me, Rachel? See how she goes?”

“Sounds great.”

They smiled at each other for a few seconds until Blaine cleared his throat, and then the two of them headed up front. Blaine settled into the tiny table, and retrieved his laptop. They didn’t have internet in here, but as long as he had his plug and headphones he could fire up some games and pass the time that way. He tried to keep an eye on the front, telling himself it was about seeing the scenery, but truthfully it was to keep an eye on the pair of them. Tried being the operative word, because he was playing _Skyrim_ and _Skyrim_ sucked you in like quicksand. He was still early in the game, because he’d needed to make a new Dragonborn -- his last one, Kurt had helped design with his flair for character customization and disregard for anything else in gaming, and playing her felt a bit like trying to be a single parent. He wondered if he should just delete her, but he had so many levels, it didn’t seem rational …

Blaine tried to force his thoughts back on track. Fighting a dragon. Right. Last thing he needed to be thinking about was Kurt. Or how Kurt used to lean over his shoulder while he played, offering commentary that always made Blaine laugh and protest, until he distracted Blaine with a finger along Blaine’s ear or a kiss to his cheek and suddenly games were the last thing Blaine cared about …

He died. Blaine sighed, watching poor Yvec the Nord go tumbling off a cliff as the dragon roared its success. He also realized, blinking dry eyes and looking up, that they were slowing down. He stood up, taking his headphones out. There was nothing but rather empty highway ahead of them, still at least an hour from San Francisco, and he didn’t get why they’d be stopping.

“What’s going on?” Blaine came up front, bracing himself against Cooper and Rachel’s seats and leaning forward. “Is something breaking?”

“I’m picking up that guy.” Cooper pointed, and Blaine saw, still fifty yards away at least -- the poor RV took a while to slow down if you didn’t want to send everything in the back flying by slamming the brakes -- a tall figure who had an arm extended. Blaine looked to Rachel, who shrugged helplessly.

“I tried to tell him how unsafe it was,” Rachel said. “Even with my Krav Maga, I don’t know if I could take down a deranged killer.”

“He’s not deranged,” Cooper said. “Hitchhiking shows confidence! Worldliness! Flair!”

“We are _not_ picking up a hitchhiker,” Blaine protested. “Why do you even want to?” It was oddly altruistic for Cooper.

“Well, I’ve been talking to Rachel while you play your nerd games, and I realized, you’re going to get awfully lonely. If we had even pairs, everyone would have someone to talk to!”

The suspicious feeling grew. The man was closer, having stopped walking, perhaps realizing that the RV was now signalling to pull over. Blaine only offered this a brief glance, then gave Cooper a horrified look.

“I don’t need a hitchhiker as a friend!”

“And what if it was something more?” Cooper asked, shit-eating grin on. “He looks tall. You like tall guys, right?”

Blaine was going to strangle him.

“No! No, I am not going to DATE hitchhiker!”

“So much judgement …” The RV shuddered to a stop beneath their feet. “Trust me, you’ll thank me for this.”

“No, I _won’t_ \--”

“Oh my god!” Rachel uttered then. “Drive, Cooper, _drive!_ ”

Blaine looked up to see what had Rachel so urgent, expecting to see the hitchhiker wielding a chainsaw and a bloody hockey mask. What he got instead was the sight of the guy now standing parallel to the RV was far more familiar than he would have liked. Blaine swore softly. Not here. Not now. _How did these things happen to him?!_

“Drive,” he ordered Cooper, who ignored them both, rolling down the window. “Cooper, no--”

“Hello there pard’ner,” Cooper drawled in a terrible Texan accent. “Lookin’ to hitch a ride?”

Sebastian Smythe gave one of his trademark, stupidly attractive smirks, and looked past Cooper to give Blaine a wink.

“This your new man, Blaine?” Sebastian asked. “Everything’s bigger in Texas, right?”

“You two know each other?” Cooper’s accent dropped. “Excellent. Tell me, would you date Blaine, mystery stranger?”

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow, gaze pinning Blaine in place. “In a heartbeat.”

Blaine was _definitely_ red now. He wasn’t even flustered, not really, almost angry because he knew Sebastian was being honest and he _knew_ he -- no. Not finishing that thought.

“All I do is _wiiiin_ ,” Cooper sang, holding up high-fives to Sebastian and Blaine, who ignored him to stare at each other.

“Sebastian,” Blaine said, politely as he could. Maybe too politely. Sebastian’s smile grew. “What are you doing in the middle of nowhere?”

“Searching for the meaning of life.” Sebastian heaved a dramatic sigh. “And a ride.”

“We’ve got room,” Cooper said. “Hop in.”

“What -- no --!” Blaine protested.

“We can’t give _Sebastian_ a ride,” Rachel hissed. “He’s _evil_.”

“Hey Rachel.” Sebastian ducked his head to spy her, giving her an appreciative once-over. “Love the short hair. Super sexy.”

Rachel teased at her wig, biting her lip, then nodded. “Well, Blaine, surely we can give him a ride to the next waystation.”

“Yeah Blaine. _Surely_ you can do that.” Did Sebastian ever _not_ smile? Blaine was tempted to lean over and hit the gas, but he knew he was outvoted. (And, truthfully, unable to reach the pedals from here.)

“Alright.”

Until the next waystation. He could manage that, right? Blaine gripped the seats tightly as Sebastian came around and let himself in, having to duck his head as he entered through the door, and his gaze remaining somewhat low for a second before drawing his gaze up to meet Blaine’s, meaning clear. Blaine swallowed and straightened, turning so he could wave a vague hand over the RV.

“As you can see, we don’t have a lot of room.”

“It’s fine.” Sebastian didn’t glance away, still staring at Blaine. The look was a twin of the last time they’d spoken in person, and his breath caught in his throat. Irrationally, he expected Sebastian to bring _it_ up, but instead he said lowly, “I like tight fits.”

“God.” Blaine laughed, looking away. It cut the tension, at least. “You haven’t changed.”

“All the best things never do.”

“Uh-huh. Sebastian, this is Rachel of course, and Cooper, my big brother. Cooper, this is Sebastian, he went to Dalton as well.”

It seemed weird to introduce Sebastian so casually, like they were old school chums, but Cooper didn’t bat an eye, only waved lazily in greeting. Sebastian looked between Cooper and Blaine, a sharp eyebrow raised, then finally turned to take in the RV. He wandered down the length of it as Cooper pulled back onto the road. Blaine shared another look with Rachel, who jerked her head after Sebastian then mouthed ‘you okay?’ to which Blaine nodded slowly. He couldn’t explain, to her, to anyone, not even sure he had the words, why Sebastian -- who he counted as  friend -- put him on his guard still. Blaine tried to shake it, following Sebastian, who gazed curiously down at Blaine’s laptop. “A dragon is eating you,” he said dryly.

“I …” Blaine rushed over, shutting his laptop, ears burning. “That’s nothing.”

“Okaaay.” Sebastian dropped his backpack to the floor then dropped himself, settling onto the wall bench and stretching his legs out -- they were long enough that his feet hit the opposite wall, and Blaine found himself unable to look away from the stretch of them as he sat back down in his seat. He’d never really let himself look at Sebastian’s legs before, though he’d noticed them, as he let himself notice people’s disregard or other challenges. Tangential, to the forward march of his life; Kurt, the one his feet kept time to. Kurt had very nice legs. This no longer eclipsed the fact that Sebastian’s were nice as well. They parted, flexed a little under his gaze, and with a jolt Blaine realized he was staring. He raised his gaze to find Sebastian staring back at him, expression unreadable, and Blaine straightened as he crossed his own legs, hands folded neatly in his lap.

“So really,” Blaine asked, finding his voice, “What are you doing, hitchhiking?”

“I wanted to travel this summer,” Sebastian said. “And I thought first class plane and train rides through Europe was overplayed. It’s something new.”

The blatant brag, so reminiscent of their first coffee together, made Blaine smile.

“I heard you’ve been attending Yale. What major …?”

“Undeclared.” Sebastian sighed heavily. “Nothing seems worth dedicating years of my life too.”

The practised ennui wasn’t new, but the lack of direction was. Blaine leaned forward, sincere.

“You’ll find something,” Blaine assured him. “I can’t imagine Sebastian Smythe not taking over the world if he wanted to.”

Sebastian smiled slowly. “Well, if Blaine Anderson says so, I can almost believe it, can’t I?”

“You should believe it.”

“Bossy, bossy …” Sebastian glanced up at the front. “So what’s with Berry’s new look?”

“She’s in hiding,” Blaine explained, voice hushing. “We just picked her up in Fresno.”

He expected Sebastian to ask, about _That’s So Rachel_ or why Blaine was travelling around in a little RV, picking people up, but he didn’t.

“So that’s really your brother?”

“Yes. The freecreditrating guy.”

“The what guy?”

“Freecreditrating? You know, the jingle …?” Blaine wasn’t about to sing it, but thankfully (?) Cooper appeared to be eavesdropping and startled them by singing the jingle, his _saaaavings_ echoing in the tiny space. Rachel applauded once he’d finished, launching into an interrogation of the commercial scene, and Blaine couldn’t help an affectionate eyeroll.

“It was a national commercial,” he told Sebastian.

“I kind of remember that. Wasn’t it Hummel’s ringtone?”

Blaine stared. Tried to imagine Kurt answering his phone in Sebastian’s presence, tried to think if he’d ever seen that, if they’d ever spoken without him around. It was like missing a step -- or no, finding a new step there that you didn’t remember, sticking out obtrusively.

“For a while,” he admitted, then redirected. “I’m surprised you didn’t know the commercial.”

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.” Sebastian shrugged. Blaine hadn’t known that; Sebastian seemed to know his pop culture, if nothing else, but … he looked at him, took in the new freckles and the new breadth to Sebastian’s shoulders, the definition to his arms. People changed.

“Huh. Well, yeah. That’s what most people know him from …” Blaine wished this conversation would end; he felt wrong-footed as he had their last meeting. “He lives in L.A., so.”

“So.” Sebastian took in the RV again, apparently amused by a private joke. “Are you half brothers?”

“Yes?”

“Okay.” Sebastian nodded, returned the evaluating look Blaine was examining him with. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“He lives in L.A.,” Blaine said again, mortification of a kind he hadn’t felt since -- since he’d let people from McKinley into his life, truthfully, whose shamelessness seemed to leave him the burden of embarrassment, which now burned his ears. “We didn’t get to see each other very often. This trip is a bonding exercise, I suppose.”

“Cool.” Sebastian levered himself up, stretched. A terribly attractive move that terribly attractive guys with good abs seemed to love to do, a flash of skin on display which stole the breath from Blaine’s lungs. Blaine’s eyes darted to the window, stared at it furiously. “Sorry. Bathroom.”

Sebastian wandered to the washroom, and Blaine scrubbed his palms against his knees. Cooper and Rachel were having an _industry_ conversation, dropping terms that even Blaine, who had been on hand to listen to both of them gush about camera acting, couldn’t follow. Should he go up to them? Wait for Sebastian to come out, keep talking to him? It seemed odd to wait. They hadn’t been having a real conversation, not the sort of one they’d used to have, on the phone or online or other safe venues where nobody could catch them.

 _Catch them_. Blaine had never crossed a line, had he? Family friendly, he’d said, and he’d meant it.

With a groan -- he didn’t need to be thinking of things like this, fights he’d had, mistakes he’d made -- he opened his laptop again, quitting _Skyrim_ (which he couldn’t, with any self-respect, imagine playing in front of Sebastian-who-didn’t-watch-a-lot-of-TV) so he could open up a document. He had his earbuds in and was playing _The Sound Of Music_ soundtrack as Sebastian exited the washroom, drying his hands on his pants; Blaine gave him a pleasant smile then started typing in what he hoped look like a studious, concentrated manner.

Sebastian hovered for a second, then sat, drawing out a book (Stefan Zweig’s _Chess_ ) which he proceeded to open to the right page (no bookmark) and start reading. Blaine watched the slight furrow of Sebastian’s brows, the quirk of his mouth at certain lines, the way he didn’t seem to care about bending the spine of the book too far. His fingers stilled on the keyboard; Sebastian looked up, and Blaine cleared his throat, offered another smile, then went back to writing. Phillipa had requested he keep a journal, and that was exactly what he planned to do.

\--

 _On way to San Francisco_ _  
_ _July 10th, 2014_

_Just picked up Sebastian Smythe. It’s hard to imagine saying his name in any way other than that -- Sebastian seems too informal, Smythe too intimidating. Sebastian Smythe. That’s always how he says it too. I’m not sure how to describe him, or my relationship with him, except to say that he’s very sharp. And I’m never sure who’s going to get cut, when he’s in a room. It’s been me before. I don’t think he’d do it again, but I think I hurt him, last time, and maybe he remembers that._

_I wish I could play my game and not think he was judging me._

\--

It was only about four hours to San Francisco, but they ended up breaking with just an hour left, as Cooper decided it was time for lunch. They pulled into a waystation, parking amidst sedans and other RVs and sporty L.A. cars. They trooped out. Blaine glanced at Sebastian, but it didn’t seem he had intentions to leave them. Instead, he guided them into the low brick building, which had a few chain restaurants, bathrooms, and a California souvenir shop. Blaine and Rachel took immediately to the nearest place which would sell a half-decent salad, leaving behind Cooper (who had the metabolism of a fifteen year old track runner, but had also lived in L.A. for the past eleven years) as he waffled as ever between the healthy option and a burger with all the toppings. Blaine could see him agonizing about it while he waited in line, trying to catch his attention to say ‘just pick’ when Sebastian came to stand next to Cooper. They started talking, like they were old friends, and whatever Sebastian was saying made Cooper toss his head back and laugh.

“Uh, Blaine?”

Blaine started, but didn’t take his gaze away from where Sebastian was pointing up to the board and Cooper was giving him a considering look.

“Yes Rachel?”

“I say this with love, but you’re looking kind of scary.”

Blaine sighed, forcing himself to look down at Rachel, who smiled, winding their arms together.

“Sorry,” Blaine said.

“It’s okay.” They moved forward in line. A step. “It’s funny, isn’t it, bumping into Sebastian all the way out here. Does he go to school out here?”

“New Haven. Yale.”

“Really!” Rachel peeked over to Sebastian; he and Cooper were in line now, still chatting. It was funny how Sebastian was so tall, he even made Blaine’s big brother look short, body inclined in careful listening. “I wonder if he’s ever bumped into Quinn. It can’t be a very big school can it? And it isn’t that far away. Do you think he came to see my show? I’ll have to see what he thought.”

“I suppose you can ask.” Blaine wasn’t sure Sebastian would have done that, but then again, he’d seen the man attend more than a few of their shows he hadn’t needed to, and he’d always been a fan of Rachel’s performing. _I can appreciate real talent_ , he’d said, eyes pinning Blaine to the spot. _Must be why I like you so much_.

“He never told you …?”

“We didn’t speak a lot.” Occasional Facebook exchanges, texts. Nothing serious.

“So.” Rachel rocked on her heels, giving him a piercing look of her own. “Are you two friends, or has enmity held you apart? I would understand completely if so, _some people_ had these ideas that you were still very close, but I couldn’t imagine you staying friendly. But I suppose Jesse and I got to a very good place, even after everything …”

Blaine pressed his lips together at the comparison. Sebastian wasn’t his _ex_ anything.

“We’re friends.” Blaine shrugged. “We, um, had a … disagreement, I suppose, last time we spoke, but we’re friends.”

There was more there. About how he didn’t trust himself around Sebastian, how trust in himself was something he was slowly nurturing again, and even if it wasn’t the exact same kind of belief he worried he’d forgotten how to deal in _maybes_ after every absolute his life had been composed of until recently.

It seemed a bit heavy a conversation for a fast food line, however, the bright fluorescent lights above far too revealing, so he settled for a weak shrug to indicate he had nothing more to say.

“Well.” Rachel patted his arm. “If you’re just friends.”

“Not ‘just friends.’ We’re friends. I’m not --.”

“Welcome, may I take your order?”

Blaine cut himself off, instead taking Rachel with him as he approached the free cashier. They ordered, and Blaine paid, and once their salads were ready they found a free table. Blaine ever so chivalrously (and with deep disgust) used a napkin to wipe away a stray squirt of ketchup, and as if their former subject had been handed over with Blaine’s twenty, they instead found themselves talking about travelling with the Glee club to Nationals. Cooper and Sebastian joined them before long, Cooper with a sushi dish and Sebastian a burger, and Sebastian entertained them with a description of getting the Warblers drunk in a bus on their way back from a miserable out of town performance.

“And I tell you, Trent puked vertically. Incredible. Incredibly disgusting.”

“Ew!” Rachel waved a fork at him. “We’re _eating_ , Sebastian!”

“We never did stuff like that when I was a Warbler,” Blaine said, laughing. “I can’t say I’m sorry I missed it, though.”

“Well, we missed you.”

An awkward beat. Cooper, bless his oblivious soul, powered through it with a cheery, “This exact thing happened with my drama troupe, Junior year …”

Blaine looked away from Sebastian to smile and nod through Cooper’s familiar story (which had been edited, he noted with amusement, to erase the part where Cooper had thrown up in the shoes of the girl he liked) and wondered about all the constructions of the word _we_.

\--

San Francisco was on the horizon. Blaine felt like singing.

“Alright,” Sebastian said, who was driving, as aggressively as you might expect from the kind of person whose favourite sport involved hitting people in very little padding with giant sticks. “I am going to allow _one_ performance of _San Francisco_. _One_. Plan wisely.”

Cooper, who was sitting next to him, immediately said, “I’ll sing lead.”

“We’ll share a lead,” Rachel said, standing up imperiously. Cooper twisted in his seat, popping his belt so he could lean over and consider her.

“The two of us?” Cooper asked, looking Rachel over from head to foot. “Let’s see what you’re made of, Ms. Berry.”

Rachel grinned, then seemed to remember Blaine existed. “Oh! What about you, Blaine? We could have ourselves a little threesome!”

“That is _not_ the official term,” Sebastian called from the front. “Not that I’d blame you …”

Blaine couldn’t prove it, but he was almost certain that Sebastian then proceeded to wink, even though his eyes never left the road.

“No, I’m okay, you guys go ahead …”

“Alright then, if you’re sure!”

Blaine nodded, and watched the city come into view as Cooper and Rachel sang, a perfect duet and he … didn’t think, tried not to think about it.

 _All across the nation_  
_Such a strange vibration_  
_People in motion_  
_There's a whole generation_  
_With a new explanation_  
_People in motion_ _  
People in motion_ ...

\--

They ended up parking Kelly on a street at an angle that didn’t seem natural, the toaster in the kitchen sliding a few inches to nestle against the wall. Blaine made sure all the valuables were hidden, and the RV locked firmly behind them -- he wouldn’t put it past Cooper to forget, he almost never locked his apartment door -- and then he took in their odd little group, clustered around him.

“Where to first?”

“Let’s just walk. I want to see the city.”

 _Let’s just walk_ wasn’t actually as ominous a statement as he initially expected from San Francisco and her hills -- everything was close together, and the sights were so refreshing, the day on the cooler side heat wise, that hitting the streets wasn’t too big a pain, even if seeing actual stairs replacing the sidewalks at times was surreal. It also meant he got to see more, feel the art and energy of the city, and he loved that. There was something about the way that centuries of history, of people living and dying and surviving and creating, could build up as physically as the buildings, the bridges, the fog on the coast, the narrow streets and cable car tracks and everything else that was distinct about the city. It was how he felt when he sang -- that you were putting something out there that was beyond understanding, a mark that could never be defined or drawn but still left the world permanently altered from how it had been before. Blaine caught himself humming, like a subconscious reverberation with the universe, and it was the first tune he’d carried in months. It made him want more, but he didn’t indulge, instead savouring the freedom he was tasting.

Blaine was so energized he led them up, up, into the surrounding cliffs. Eventually they found their way up to the Presidio, where there wasn’t a half-bad shot of the bridge, rising out of the fog that still stubbornly clung to the ocean it had risen out of. You could tell it was a good shot because a whole horde of tourists stood there, cars parked by the side of the road as they clustered near the guardrail and infographic signs to take photos.

“I am not getting into that mess,” Sebastian said.

“We have to get a photo!” Blaine protested.

“You can do that. I’m not really a photography guy.” Sebastian waved him along, and Blaine joined Rachel and Cooper at the edge, maneuvering past a large group. They took a moment to admire the large bridge in all her glory, and then Blaine did some careful checks around them and turned on Cooper.

“Take a photo of me,” Blaine said, thrusting his phone at Cooper and backing up so the bridge was behind him. Other tourists had the same idea, obviously, but Blaine had picked his spot for best visual freedom of others. They should really organize lines for these things, honestly.

“Ready?” Cooper asked, swiping up on the phone and aiming.

“Hang on.” Blaine shifted his stance and brought his hands up in the world’s most dramatic jazz hands, doing his best McKellan impersonation. “Now.”

Cooper tapped a few times, and then Blaine dropped his arms, bouncing over to check. The photos had come out nicely, and he critically picked the best and deleted the rest. While he was doing that, Cooper wandered away, and when Blaine looked up he found Cooper had been drawn into a photo with a bunch of presumably American tourists who were saying excited words that suspiciously sounded like ‘free’ and ‘credit’ and ‘rating’ which translated as ‘oh no’ in Blaine’s mind.

He wasn’t the only one worried, as Cooper preceded to mug for the camera: Rachel, who was leaning against the infographic in her best Barbra-by-Meisel impersonation, watched with a forlorn expression.

“What’s up?” Blaine asked as he joined her, and held up his phone in invitation.

“Nothing.” She shook out her hair, and then they took a few selfies, matching grins and his arm around her waist. He started when Sebastian slid in beside them, apparently having broken his self-imposed rule.

“Here. You need someone with longer arms for that.” Sebastian took out his own phone, and managed to get a few pictures of all three of them. It was odd, Blaine thought, staring back at his own smiling face between Rachel’s and Sebastian’s. Like staring at a stranger.

“Who needs a selfie stick when I have you?” Blaine asked, forcing his thoughts to another track. Sebastian laughed.

“Careful, Anderson. You’ll be stuck with me.”

“Are we?” Rachel asked, or perhaps interrogated was more accurate. “Are you staying with us after San Francisco?”

“I.” Sebastian was rarely at a loss for words, though he was prone to gathering them before he spoke. Blaine waited, and when nothing more came out, nudged Sebastian. They shared a look and Blaine raised an eyebrow. “If you’ll have me, of course I’ll stay.”

“We won’t kick you out,” Blaine said. “The more the merrier, right?”

“Though if we were to leave you behind, you could find your own way, correct?” Rachel was being insistent, and Blaine glanced uncertainly between them. She had become far more adaptive since New York, since L.A., since … well. She had let Sebastian along with minor complaint. But maybe Blaine was finding her boundary, and recognizing the startling lack of his own.

“Of course.” Sebastian turned, gesturing out over the bay and the bridge, encompassing far more than the physical with the move. “‘Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road’ and all that.”

“Kerouac? Apropos.” And cliché, but Blaine liked, liked how Sebastian said it. Sebastian gave a half shrug.

“Then there’s no harm in it,” Rachel admitted. “If we have any … disagreements we can part later in our journey, but for now we’ll continue together.”

“Sounds good to me.” Sebastian and Rachel shared a look like cats feeling out mutual territory, and then he turned to Blaine and said, “See if you can steal your brother away from his admirers, Blaine. There’s some historical buildings I’d like to check out.”

“Alright.”

\--

Sebastian did take them to the more historical district and its preserved homes, beautiful tall things with elegant carved wood fronts and bright colours and wrought iron railings. One, a staggering Queen Anne Victorian complete with turret, from before the earthquake -- Haas-Lilienthal House -- offered a tour. It was very sedentary, not the sort of thing that Blaine expected from Sebastian, but he personally loved it. It was a beautifully designed place, with authentic furniture, and Blaine lost only a few moments to painfully nostalgic memories of his and Kurt’s silly Regency/Victorian era roleplays they’d done. Plays, but not a performance; kids playing, apparently. But in a happier fashion it also reminded him of Dalton, some of the wood panelling in the rooms similar in its geometry, the refinery and beauty, and Dalton had always been more than _him_ or _them_ or even _us_.

The tour guide was speaking of the Jewish community in San Francisco --  Rachel peppering the woman with questions -- when Blaine hung back a little, staring up at the stained glass windows, realizing he’d never envisioned his future home (with Kurt) having those, but he’d very much like it to have them now.

He started when he heard the click of an iPhone camera, and turned to find Sebastian near the doorway, phone up. Blaine smiled unsurely, looking down, and Sebastian offered, “You looked good. Do you want me to delete it ...?”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Blaine came over to meet him, sparing a final glance at the stained glass as they made to catch up with the tour group. “You’re taking your job as my personal photographer seriously, I see?”

 _What happened to no photos_ , he wanted to ask, but Sebastian was allowed his aimless boasts, wasn’t he? Blaine knew he’d indulged himself.

“Hey, you said selfie stick, not all-around photographer. That was just a moment of weakness.”

“Weakness?”

“Red is a good colour on you,” Sebastian explained, and Blaine glanced confused at his outfit -- white and blue -- when Sebastian offered his phone. The photo was fairly well composed, just Blaine standing and staring up with the blue-and-white antique chairs flanking him, and you only saw a hint of his profile. But the curve of his cheek was painted in the sheer smooth red of the dappled light from the stained glass. Blaine stared at it, touched his own cheek like it could still be there.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Blaine shook himself mentally, handed back the phone. “So how much to pay you to be my personal photographer?”

“One buck.”

“Well then.” Blaine pulled out his wallet, fished out a dollar bill, and handed it to Sebastian. “Consider yourself employed.”

“Ooh.” Sebastian accepted it. “Mom and Dad will be so proud.”

“Do you two mind?” A stranger in their touring group hissed at them. “Some of us are trying to _learn_.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian said, sounding utterly unapologetic and perfectly cheerful. Blaine expected more, but Sebastian fell silent with a wink to Blaine. Blaine smiled back, and they kept pace with each other for the rest of the tour, Rachel and Cooper up ahead and involved in their own little world.

After the tour, they decided to head over to 18th street near Castro to check out the GLBT Historical Society’s Museum, at Rachel and Blaine’s insistence. Sebastian grumbled but accepted -- “Jesus, they better not have one of those depressing ‘here are all the ways queers get their heads bashed in’ exhibits” -- and Cooper of course was up for everything, and they managed to get there with minimal fuss. (He was thankful they all had such a good sense of direction; if they ever did get lost, it wouldn't be for long.) Blaine took back over the photographer duties on the way there, and managed to rope them into a group selfie (taken by Sebastian) in front of the sign once there. It was cheap to get in -- most historical things in San Francisco appeared to be fairly priced, an attempt to get history out to everyone -- and it wasn’t too crowded, so they got in quickly.

Blaine was alight with it; part of him would always belong in those traditional wood-panelled rooms, but here in the glass-fronted modern building and its newly-recovered history and seeking out of what their culture was, he knew part of him always had a foot in the future too. Sebastian kept himself utterly aloof, but even he seemed interested, and in the Front Gallery he chuckled fondly over a painting of a gay bar that featured, amongst other things, two men grinding as one bent over to blow good luck on to the billiards balls in the racker.

“That’s how I learned to play pool,” Sebastian said. “I thought I was very slick, you know.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen? Fifteen?” Sebastian waved a hand. “There was this guy a few years older than me. I was so into him, I’d probably have let him do me on that table. Luckily for his arrest record and my reputation, he had _some_ self-restraint.”

“That’s awful,” Blaine said, but he was grinning. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was so into this college-age guy, when I was fifteen, that I serenaded him at the GAP?”

“Is this the GAP incident the Warblers consider a greater tragedy than that plane turning a couple slow-moving Warblers into paste?”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration. It wasn’t _that_ bad.” Blaine considered. “I got rejected, and the guy got fired, but it didn’t happen in front of anyone. Well, except --” he cut himself off.

“Then I guess it worked out for you ultimately,” Sebastian said, then moved along, Blaine nearly stumbling over his feet as he rushed to catch up. They went through all the art on the display, and then the actual history section was more skimming, admittedly, since they didn’t have all the time in the world. It was already mid-afternoon, and they had no plans to stay longer than the day. At one point, as they read about the riots, Sebastian nodded at it.

“Do you think you’d ever firebomb a cop car?”

“No,” Blaine said, startled. “Do _you_?”

“If it got the point across.” Sebastian threw an arm around Blaine, leading him along. Rachel was across the room, handkerchief dabbing beneath her clunky glasses as she read something on the timeline that clearly upset her. Blaine would go to her, but Sebastian hadn’t let go, and it had been a long time since an attractive guy who was into him had done that, so Blaine bit his lip and let it happen.

“I don’t know, I’m all for activism, but …”

“And I’m not for activism. But if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s pissing people off and making them pay attention. Sometimes you need that, so the Harvey Milks and Blaine Andersons of the world can stand up and speak.”

“I guess I get that.” Blaine smiled at him, feeling a bit mischievous. “Besides, your _father_ who is a _State’s Attorney_ and is _very important, everyone_ could protect you, so.”

“I don’t sound like that!” Sebastian protested, jostling Blaine. “You wound me.”

“You bragged about that so much! Your father was pretty nice, I was never sure he’d actually let you get away with all you did.”

“It’s true. He punished me terribly. Private school. A new car. I suffered.”

“At one point he told me he was considering exiling you to northern Canada.”

“I hate the cold.” One of the only personal weaknesses Sebastian had ever admitted to, and one that Blaine had heard before.

“I know. _He_ knew. He thought snow might calm you down.”

“Drive me stir crazy more like. I’d end up burning down all the maple trees or something.”

“Are there maple trees all the way up in Northern Canada? Isn’t it … firs or something?”

“How should I know?” Sebastian shrugged, jostling Blaine again, closer into Sebastian’s warm body. He always had such nice cologne, and Blaine tried to inhale subtly. “I am fortunate to have never been.”

“I don’t know, maybe if I call your dad up right now he can buy you a plane ticket …”

“You don’t have his number. Do you have his number? Call him up regularly? Christ, Anderson, stop putting the moves on my dad.”

“Gross, Sebastian, I am _not --_ ” Blaine was laughed, leaning in, when he noticed some other visitors -- an older gay couple, knobby hands twined together like roots -- smiling at them fondly. It was a look Blaine recognized, remembered last across the booth at Breadstix when he’d thought he was seeing his inevitable future, and an ugly welling of emotions froze the smile on his face. He forced himself to laugh through it, waited a few moments for it to be as natural as possible, then pulled away. “I’m going to check on Rachel.”

He darted back the way they’d come, leaving Sebastian standing alone. Rachel was surprised to see him, and launched into an impassioned speech about the injustices of the world which Blaine nodded through in stern agreement, and they met up with everyone by the giftshop and exit. Cooper appeared with a phone number written on his hand, of course, which he gamely offered to Sebastian and Blaine both, who shook their heads. Sebastian was looking at him weirdly, not a look Blaine could decipher, and Blaine felt bad about his earlier ditching. It hadn’t been half as smooth as he’d hoped it would be, and to make up for the guilty pit in his stomach, he bought Sebastian a white shirt featuring a black graphic image of a flaming cop car captioned with **_NO APOLOGIES!_** and subtitled with the date of the White Night riots.

Sebastian had smirked at it, and accepted it with a, “Now here’s a message I want to send.”

“It’s very you,” Blaine assured him back, and like that, things seemed normal again. Then, outside in the sunlight again, Sebastian had stripped off his own shirt and replaced it with the new one, and Blaine had been forced to study a cracked sidewalk slab to avoid raising his gaze.

 _Seemed_ was likely the operative word, but Blaine pushed that away.

\--

They did a marathon rush to see some other sights -- specifically focused on the Golden Gate Park and Chinatown -- but after dinner and some more exploring until night had fallen, they found themselves taking the metro back to the Castro and the gay district. They took the time to take in the Pink Triangle Memorial, one of the never-ending proofs of how their struggle was linked to others, and everything that had been lost on the way to where they were now.

It was a sobering sight, and they walked in silence for a while after leaving it.

Sebastian was the one to finally break it, announcing, “We aren’t leaving San Francisco without going to one gay club,” and Blaine had to agree.

He still felt sort of warm, as he had in the museum, though the guilt was also there and he could only hope that drinks and dancing might curtail both.

They picked a place, a huge one whose pounding music was spilling out onto the sidewalk as surely as its flashing lights, and Blaine patted himself on the back for remembering to bring his fake ID -- not the one Sebastian had gotten him in high school, which was tucked securely in his photo album back home, but one of the much nicer ones Elliott had gotten them in college. Rachel had one too thanks to that, and of course Sebastian seemed to sprout new fake IDs whenever he so much as sneezed. Cooper, the only one there of age, laughed at them as he just walked in with an appreciative wink at the stone-faced bouncer.

Once inside, Blaine rolled up his sleeves, surveying the slightly raised dance floor under the disco lights, the bar running along the far wall.

Tonight would be fun. He would _make_ it fun.

\--

A few drinks later, he wasn’t so sure about that.

\--

Blaine twirled his drink, watching vodka cling to the sides of the glass.

Sebastian had long since left for the dance floor of course, dancing with a handsome guy even frecklier than himself. Rachel had struck up a conversation with another girl, and he wondered how long before she realized that the girl wasn’t just another straight girl enjoying a club where no one would bother her. Cooper was dancing by himself, but a sort of slowly writhing orgy of half-naked men were circling him, watching with hungry eyes as Cooper lost himself (dorkily, Blaine would have to mention that to Cooper later) on the dance floor.

When even your ambiguous-but-generally-straight older brother was having fun at the gay club while you sat by yourself, you knew you were in trouble. Blaine couldn’t help a certain kind of tiredness that was snatching at his bones now though, holding him down into his seat, and he knew if he didn’t get up now he’d never move.

Blaine downed his drink, left his glass, then dived onto the dance floor. He moved slowly to the center, away from where Sebastian and Cooper haunted the edges, until he didn’t recognize a single face around him. There he could finally close his eyes, fingers undoing his bowtie by memory as his hips began to rock. The music was a Beyoncé remix, and it was almost impossible not to shake your ass to that.

Someone stepped up behind him. Blaine glanced over his shoulder, finding a cute guy about his height with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. Not outstandingly handsome, and not his type, and exactly what he needed right now. He shut his eyes again, continuing to move as the guy slid big hands onto his hips and pulled him closer. The bass always seemed to get louder when you were like this, and he’d never had a chance to enjoy that before, because he’d always done this with Kurt and then his thoughts had no recourse but Kurt’s undeniable presence. Blaine tipped his head back, rocked slowly, grinding really as the guy placed a kiss behind his ear.

“You dance well,” the guy grumbled, and it made Blaine laugh. And he hadn’t even seen Blaine memorize an elaborate dance routine to a complicated measure. How nice.

He didn’t respond, only reaching behind him to curl a hand around the back of the guys head, keeping him close as they danced. He let the vodka wash over him, _waves on a tropical shore,_ and he hummed to himself, ignoring how the guy was singing along to the music behind him. It was getting hotter, sweat at the nape of his neck, his lower back, denim rubbing and the guy’s thumbs untucking his shirt to trace along the skin of his waistband.

Anonymous, and he’d hated himself for this once before. Anonymous, which was what he was now, no undeniable presence defining him.

Blaine could do this. Blaine _wanted_ to do this. Blaine hadn’t wanted this in a long time, long before he and Kurt had even broken up.

He turned slowly, one arm hooking around the guy’s neck to keep him in place, the other crawling down between their bodies to find his fly. The guy stared at him, quietly awed, and Blaine closed his eyes again, smiling as he popped the guy’s button and unzipped him, hand slipping inside his tented jeans. He curled a steady hand around the guy’s cock, heavy and warm and not too bad, all things considering, for a dancefloor random. Nothing on Kurt’s, though.

A mouth touched his own. Blaine started -- somehow, jacking a guy off on the dance floor felt a little less hygienically questionable than kissing a possibly herpes-laden mouth -- and slid his mouth away, kissing the guy’s jaw, ear, in apology, his hand stroking steadily. The guy breathed heavily in Blaine’s ears, and absently, Blaine began to move them again, hips jerking in slow circles and the bass thumping where his blood seemed to be pooling in his cheeks, his dick, the throb of his wrists. He shuddered, trying to pull the guy closer, which affected his angle, so he settled for using his free hand to bury into the guy’s hair and clench. A perfect hair for holding -- Kurt had that too, and wasn’t half so fussy about his hair being touched during sex as you might expect. Only if they didn’t have somewhere to be after, though.

Blaine had liked that. Had liked the temptation when he couldn’t, and the permission when he could, threading through thick strands and tugging when Kurt sucked him off, with that intense focus he always had when getting Blaine off. Sex with Kurt was like universes colliding -- Blaine had found sex with Eli like a weak sparkler in comparison; sex with Tim, the cute gym rat in the showers after Sue’s jazzercise class like a perfectly serviceable fireworks display. Nothing else, nobody else, had touched him quite like Kurt could.

The guy whimpered, and Blaine tightened his grip, sped up. He didn’t know if he’d be coming himself, but that was okay; Blaine wouldn’t do this guy the disservice of comparing him further to Kurt in that area.

“God,” the guy grunted, and then he was coming; Blaine could practically feel his balls tensing against his knuckles. Blaine worked him through it, and then kissed his ear again, slowly extricating his hand like it had touched nuclear waste.

Time for a bathroom.

“Hey,” the guy said, grabbing his hand as Blaine tried to step away. “Let me.”

Blaine hadn’t realized until then that they’d drifted closer to the far wall of the club, but he certainly noticed as he was backed against it, pushing through the heaving masses like cresting a sea, and then the guy fell to his knees in front of him. Blaine looked around, but nobody was really watching them -- to their left, another couple were getting each other, dicks out in the open, and then his own was out. Blaine stopped him -- “Condom.” -- and then the guy produced one, like magic, and Blaine couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly as it was rolled onto him. Then the guy went down on him, with practised ease. Blaine shut his eyes, ears burning, pulse pounding, hips jerking, hands tensing. He found the guy’s hair and held him there, hips working, feeling the hum of the guy’s tongue along his pulse line.

He came quickly, panting as he came down. He gave the guy a weak smile. “Thank you,” he said, which was the least you could say to someone who had just sucked you off. Even if, he knew with a wave of _something_ that collided unpleasantly with his afterglow, it wasn’t as good as Kurt (even if the technique was, in all honesty, superior.)

“No problem.” The guy took the condom off too, tying it off and tossing it aside uncaringly, as Blaine tucked himself away. He smoothed his shirt down, hovered awkwardly, then nodded.

“Bye.” Blaine dived back into the dancing masses, occasionally distracted by a snatch of dancing, hands on him and breath on his neck, but he determinedly made it to the bathrooms. There was, in a true miracle, a stall free and he grabbed some toilet paper and wet it in the sink before locking himself in and doing a quick bathroom break/clean up combo. Once he felt ready he headed back out. He’d forgotten how unpleasant the post-condom sensation was. Monogamy should be more popular with gay men, really, if it meant no condoms and no risk.

As he washed his hands in the sink, the stall next to him banged open. Out came a very happy looking man who also looked vaguely familiar, which was explained when he was followed out by Sebastian, wiping the back of his mouth.

After everything, the sight of this was what made Blaine blush.

“Hey,” Sebastian said, moseying up as his guy left the washroom. He washed his own hands, rinsing his mouth and spitting (a bit more than spit landing in the sink; Blaine tried not to think about it) and then grinning at himself in the mirror. “We lost you for a while.”

“I was near the back.”

“Naughty, Anderson.” Sebastian handed him a paper towel and as they dried their hands, and Blaine resisted the temptation to pelt him with it afterwards.

“You seemed like you were having naughty fun yourself.”

“Ooh, say _naughty_ again,” Sebastian said, eyebrows waggling. “And it wasn’t that much fun. He nearly poked my eye out.” They exited the washroom together, and Blaine laughed, ducking his chin. “Come on, I’ll buy you another drink, then you can finally give me that dance you owe me.”

“I owe you a dance?”

“Remember? Last time we were at Scandals. I asked you to dance, and you said, _next time_.”

Blaine did remember that, and he was amazed he did, because various men kept buying him drinks and he’d been quite drunk at the time. Not so drunk that he’d forgotten Kurt was going to be in town the next day, though, and had let himself out of that dangerous situation as gracefully as possible.

“Fine.” Blaine figured he’d already embraced a lot of danger today; why stop now? “Drink first, though.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Sebastian threw a familiar arm around Blaine’s shoulders, then, tucking him into his side as they went around the side of the dance floor. Blaine looked up at him, words hovering on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them to brew with everything else unsaid. No point of ruining what was, altogether, turning out to be a pleasant night. Blaine just leaned into Sebastian’s solid warmth, and let himself be flirted with as they clinked glasses and drank, and then melded into the dance floor, somewhere between the silly dancing of their recent youth and something more, something that made Blaine’s fingers keep touching at his collar, itching to unbutton it.

He was dizzily, drunkenly thankful that he’d taken the edge off earlier in the evening, and so they managed to collapse into a last-minute rented hotel room hours and drinks and dances later with nothing more than companionable laughter between them like the yellow bars of the streetlight passing through the blinds to paint the bed. Rachel snored in the other bed, a phone number in black ink down her arm; Cooper sang in the shower, loud and uncaring, and Sebastian stared at him quietly until Blaine finally passed out to the welcoming arms of alcohol-hazy sleep.

\--

“Not so loud,” Rachel begged, as Blaine took the plastic off the cup that came with the coffee maker in their room.

“Is someone hungover?” Sebastian asked, too sweetly, and Rachel threw a pillow at him, then took Cooper’s and pressed it over her head, flopping down. Sebastian laughed, watching her with fascination; Blaine could imagine that someone not used to seeing prim and proper Rachel Berry hungover would be amazed with the sight.

“Here, Rachel, drink this,” Blaine said quietly as he came over, setting the cup down on the side table next to her. Rachel looked miserably out at him, and Blaine added two aspirin he’d wheedled out of the front desk lady.

He might not have his brother’s metabolism, but he never did get hungover, which seemed a fair enough exchange. This also meant he was used to looking after everyone else, and Rachel and him had a familiar routine for this.

“Thank you,” she whispered miserably, taking the pills then downing the coffee. Blaine went over to sit next to Sebastian, who was looking up nearby brunch places on his phone. Cooper was out for a run -- even Sebastian had begged off on that, so Blaine felt less bad about ditching as well, because he might not be _hungover_ but he was still not sure he wanted to run up and down the hilly streets of San Francisco with nothing but vodka and whiskey consumed in the last twelve hours. Cooper was a special kind of man, that was for sure.

“Here’s one,” Sebastian said, once Rachel had shuffled off to take a shower. “Important: they have a liquor license.”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“Hair of the dog!” Sebastian waved his phone at Blaine. “And you know how I like my coffee.”

“I do.” Blaine smiled -- Sebastian had always looked to Blaine when ordering it, as if to be sure Blaine was making note. “You won’t be driving, though.”

“Of course not.”

They chatted, and it was strikingly normal, even though Blaine three months ago, a year ago, three years ago -- (god, they’d known each other a long time now, and it wasn’t a surprising thing to realize which was maybe surprising in itself) -- could never have imagined himself in this kind of situation with Sebastian Smythe. Seated on a hotel bed, some rather spectacularly indecent things done last night even if it wasn’t together, on a roadtrip. Well, for the time being. Sebastian had made no promises, or excuses. He was simply there, for however long, and Blaine would have to accept the uncertainty of that.

All the same, Blaine couldn’t help but watch Sebastian all through breakfast, wondering ...

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: Scott McKenzie's _[If You're Going To San Francisco](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdvCqUguIh8)_. Also the Beyoncé mix that plays in the club is unnamed but I was thinking _[this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-04J4aSExs)_ so enjoy.
> 
> The painting Sebastian and Blaine look at in the GLBT museum is [THIS PIECE](http://s79f01z693v3ecoes3yyjsg1.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/ambush_bar.jpg) by Chuck Arnett ... I highly recommend reading [THIS ARTICLE](http://www.sfexaminer.com/new-exhibit-tells-sf-gay-lesbian-leather-history-through-art/) about it. The shirt Blaine buys Sebastian is [THIS ONE](https://rlv.zcache.com/no_apologies_t_shirt-rbc9fae1ee59d48bdbf02769e2110c6c1_k2grt_630.jpg?view_padding=%5B285%2C0%2C285%2C0%5D).


	3. saw you standing there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief blink-and-you'll miss it allusion to suicide when they talk death this chapter.

Blaine could have spent longer in San Francisco -- it was more his speed than L.A., had a kind of genuine vibe that reminded him of New York, but much more polished. Still, all four of them had agreed over breakfast that they could never spend longer than a day or two in any given place, or they would be at this all year. As is, the summer wouldn’t last forever, so they had to be smart about this.

So he drove them out of the city, enduring the traffic until it cleared out. They had decided they wanted to head north (by northwest) in order to get up into Oregon. “I want to see Crater Lake,” Sebastian had said, and everyone agreed that sounded like a plan. Blaine had dutifully taken out the US Map book and looked up the roads they should take, tracing them in red pen and taking it up front with him for reference, but on an impulse, decided to twirl the wheel and take them on a more scenic route. He headed toward the coast, rolling down his window and trying to smell for salt air -- it had been growing on him, the tang of it, and it was not something you found on New York despite it being a port city -- and undoubtedly adding a few hours to their travel time (already an estimated seven hours.) Nobody else complained, though from the sound of it they spent a while playing a phone game that required tapping when you saw things match up with the prompt, which garnered much outcry and protestations.

Blaine made a mental note to pick up more diversions for these long trips. A deck of cards, some board games, something like that.

“Where are we?” Cooper asked, coming up once the game had broken up, peering out the windshield.

“Don’t hover like that,” Blaine said, glancing in his side mirror as if a cop would show up. He didn’t think anyone actually expected people in an RV to use the provided seatbelts along the bench and bolted-down chairs -- if school bus drivers got to terrorize kids by swinging around corners at ninety miles an hour without any seatbelts, surely a staid RV which was similar in bulk hardly needed them -- but _still_. No point inviting trouble.

Cooper rolled his eyes, and Blaine didn’t even have to look to _know_ , but dutifully slipped into the passenger seat and buckled himself in. “Sorry, Driver’s Ed. Where are we going?”

“Oregon.”

“Is this the right way? We didn’t pass by Sacramento at all.”

“I wanted to see the ocean.”

“We can see the ocean in Oregon. Isn’t this taking us out of the way?”

“It is, but I wanted to go this way.”

“Alright, baby bro, you do you …”

“I will, _thank you_.” Blaine clenched the wheel, then pointedly reached over to crank up the volume on the radio, which was on an indie station and currently playing Belle and Sebastian’s _The Blues Are Still Blue_. Cooper sighed, and Blaine ignored him, deciding to grab his new-found freedom by the throat and start singing along. “ _I'_ _m a singer, a swinger. I'm a layabout, but laying on the dock in the lazy sun will never quite relegate me to a bum …”_

“ _I left my lady in the launderette. You can put some money on it, you can place a little bet_ …” Cooper joined in, and the annoyed knot in his chest unwound a little, Blaine sparing a quick smile at his brother before refocusing on the road, which was starkly black against the lush greenery that was a far cry already from California they were leaving behind, green gilded gold in the near afternoon sunlight. The first hints of salt in the air were coming, and Blaine could see the ocean, a distant blue-grey stripe laid along the horizon below the bright blue of the sky.

 _Baby, I love your face_  
_I've been creeping round this town because?_  
_Well, creeping's just my way_  
_But with a little wink I'll be there_  
_I'll be excited for a week, but then excitement starts to fade_  
_I know you’re young, but you're out of touch_ _  
You're French, your vocabulary's not quite formed_ ...

\--

After a few hours, everyone was ready for a break and lunch -- they also had to get around to stocking the mini fridge with more than a case of beer Cooper had left in there.

Blaine, his knees protesting and stomach about to devour itself, pulled off into a seaside town, where they found a little restaurant to eat in that overlooked the bay. A short walk along the rocky beach, a requisite photo by the town sign ( _City of_ Eureka, it looked like it needed an exclamation mark), and then they were back at it. Rachel, apparently now recovered from her condition, insisted on taking over -- “I haven’t driven yet!” -- and once the seat had been pulled up for her they let her take them across the border into Oregon, Blaine next to her and acting as guide while Cooper napped in the loft and Sebastian finished off his book. They stopped to stretch their legs and get gas at a little community called Prospect, and when Blaine mentioned to the friendly cashier (as he bought a deck of cards and some water bottles for the fridge) where they were headed, he got a wise nod.

“You came in the RV?”

“Yes.”

“Do the rim drive, son, you’ll see much more.”

“Alright, we’ll do that.”

“And make sure your old girl doesn’t break down in the altitude …”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Thanks!”

He emerged to find that Cooper had finally bought tents and sleeping bags from somewhere -- “Camping, here we come!” -- and then it was back on the road. Sebastian drove them the rest of the way, easing Kelly up the incline of the road as the altitude changed, bringing with it clearer skies and a need to roll the windows back up. The engine started to emit a faint whine, but she held steady, and Blaine kept a cautious eye to the front as the road rumbled beneath them. The forest spread out around them, dark green and thriving, and grey volcanic stone started breaking through like islands breaking through the green sea, the occasional hints of still-unmelted snow like the white caps on the waves. They soon got to Rim Village (“What a name,” Sebastian said, smirking, and Blaine smothered a snort) which contained a visitor’s centre and various food buildings, most of which were closed by now. It was about six p.m., but they still had hours of daylight left, so Blaine just popped out to grab a leaflet and then they turned onto the road which would lead them to the nearest stop for viewing, called Discovery Point according to his map.

“Do you need to switch?” Blaine asked Sebastian.

“Nah. Thirty miles an hour, I barely need to drive …” Sebastian pointed to a sign indicating the speed limit, and Blaine nodded, taking advantage of his position up front to gawk. There had to be a more elegant word, because it really was a breath-taking sight, but Blaine knew that was what he was doing. It was hard not to. A clear smooth lake, with a sort of brilliant blue that could even put the sky to shame, framed by cool grey rock and scrub pines, spreading out immensely to touch each corner of the reaching mountain peaks. Like a portal to another universe, a mythical lake from legend, something you could dip yourself into and emerge into a better world as a cleaner soul with a brighter future.

He took a lot of pictures.

This road had traffic, so they were going even slower than thirty, but they decided to skip the first few viewing points to avoid people, coming out the area of the West Rim and past the north entrance to the drive until they got to the East Rim. It was less busy here, just them and the road caught between the lake and the sky, and soon they found themselves approaching Cleetwood Cove.

“This is the only place in the park where it’s legal to swim,” Blaine said. “Who’s up for it?”

“Ooh! Yes.” There was a sound like the bench drawers being slid out, and Rachel unzipped her suitcase, rummaging for her swimsuit. “I call bathroom!” She pattered off to change as Sebastian parked them beside an RV that had to be twice the size of Kelly. This was the first sign of life this side of the Rim, as people seemed to flock here, though doubtlessly not as many if they’d come in the middle of the day. Blaine levered himself out of his seat, going to get his own swimsuit, then shut his eyes in immediate horror.

“Cooper! What -- don’t -- why are you naked!”

“I’m changing,” Cooper said cheerfully. Blaine peeked out of the corner of his eye at Sebastian, who was turning with obvious interest. Blaine reached out, smacking Sebastian’s head maybe a bit harder than intended.

“Eyes up front, Smythe.”

“Hey, your brother’s the one offering the free show …” Sebastian kept his eyes dutifully forward, and a second later, Cooper announced it was safe to look. Blaine spread his fingers unsurely, but sure enough Cooper was in his ridiculous electric blue speedo and tossing aside his shirt.

“Never do that again,” Blaine grumbled, heading for his suitcase. Once Rachel emerged, looking lovely in a red haltered one piece (chosen by Kurt, with colour contribution from Santana, as they had prepared her for L.A.; Blaine still remembered Kurt’s thumb rubbing his knuckles as they sat outside the changeroom and waited for Rachel to come out) and her wig gone, certainly not fit for swimming, though she was wearing massive sunglasses. Blaine took the washroom next, changing into swim shorts and an exercise tank. He came out to find Sebastian was changed as well. When he glared, Sebastian pointed innocently to the fridge.

“I’m not an animal. I used the fridge door as a screen.”

“He did,” Rachel said solemnly, looking between the three of them in interest. “I thought boys all changed in front of each other at school.”

“Boys didn’t change in front of me,” Blaine said, averting his eyes from Sebastian and grabbing his towel. “And I’m just asking for a little decorum.”

“So proper.” Sebastian laughed at him as they exited the RV. It was cool out here, cooler than he expected, and Blaine dodged back in to grab a sweater (“Oh, get mine too?” Rachel asked, and Blaine obliged) before returning. He found Cooper stretching and already garnering the attention of a pair of girls in bikinis who were sun tanning on the roof of their old Jeep.

“Come on Casanova …” Blaine dragged him away from them, and down the Cleetwood Cove Trail which took them down a steep rocky path through trees, the snow drifts still on the ground a bit surreal to their destination. They eventually got to a stony semi-circle of a beach, where a few families and some college-aged kids were swimming. They kicked off their shoes, and Rachel staked out a convenient flat rock with her towel, and looked to Blaine as she settled cross-legged.

“Can you braid my hair?”

“Sure, Ra--”

“I do a better braid than him,” Cooper interjected, sitting behind her with a winning grin. “Our mom likes mine best.”

“She does _not_ ,” Blaine said, and in his sharp words he heard a foul mood that had snuck up on him despite the beautiful day, jaw-dropping location. He sighed, waved at them. “Go ahead. He is really good at them, Rachel.”

Rachel smiled, shaking her hair out and allowing Cooper to begin an easy French braid of her hair, whispering something to her that made her giggle. Blaine left them, heading down to the water’s edge. The view was breathtaking, of course -- even if from here he could see the water wasn’t totally pure, as yellow tree pollen looped in lazy circles across the slight waves, but he felt it just complimented the deep blue of the lake. His attention, however, was drawn to Sebastian, who had already dived in. He was in the midst of a back crawl out to deeper water, and Blaine recentered his breathing on the steady movement of Sebastian’s long arms as they cut the water gracefully, legs kicking in a way you could keep time to.

(He used to have this recurring dream, after first meeting Sebastian, about tumultuous waters. Phillipa asked about that, and Blaine tried to answer.)

Sebastian had done competitive swimming when he was younger, Blaine knew. He’d never had the same passion for it as he’d for performing or field sports, Blaine knew. Blaine and Sebastian had compared trophy cabinets and they’d chatted on this casually but he’d never seen Sebastian swim before now. Had never really seen Sebastian less than fully clothed before now, either, and he he couldn’t pull his gaze away as he absently dipped a toe in the water. Cold, but on the edge of bearable; a relief, because maybe the bright sun was getting to him, and he was feeling very warm.

Sebastian stopped, treading water, and splashed loudly to attract Blaine’s already caught attention.

“Come on! The water’s great.”

“That’s arguable,” Blaine shot back, but waded further, feet slipping on the smooth rocks of the bottom until it began to drop off. He started to swim them, a demi-breaststroke which took him closer to Sebastian, who let him get within ten feet before turning tail and taking off with a fast front crawl that sent the clear blue of the water into frothing spikes. “Hey!” Blaine shouted, sputtering around a faceful of cold water, then set off in chase. He had to give up on keeping his hair dry before long, because he needed every speed advantage if he wanted to catch Sebastian. He was soon numb to the cold and able to go faster as they went in wild circles, splashing and laughing, their informal game of tag leading to Blaine hiding behind a large smooth stone, clinging to it and wiping his face as he looked around for Sebastian.

Nothing. Just the large empty lake, the heat of late afternoon on his back, and the distant sound of a child shrieking.

“Sebastian …?” Blaine asked cautiously, peeking around the rock. He was just starting to get worried when a hand closed around his ankle. “Wh--” Blaine spun around, kicking out, falling back from the force of it as he made contact with something solid and crashing into the water. He struggled to regain his balance as Sebastian emerged from the water, coughing for air and yet somehow still managing a snigger. “Oh my god! Why did you do that!”

“I couldn’t resist,” Sebastian said, with a laugh that transformed into a loud hacking sound as he rubbed his chest. “Jesus, you kick like a horse.”

“I could have broken your ribs!” Blaine protested, sending a splash of water at Sebastian who darted away from it with a wince, reclining against the large rock as he poked tentatively at the area of contact and struggled to regain his breath. “If that bruises, it’s your fault.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“Excuse me! Like I’ve ever maimed _you_ , bad side or not! That kick was instinct!”

They both realized too late that they had history, and an awkward silence fell. Blaine looked away waiting for his impatiently pounding heart to slow down before he could find new words to defuse the others, brush them aside.

“Blaine …”

“Don’t,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. I was --” joking, or whatever you called it when you liked someone but you were upset with them, or maybe just upset with yourself, or whatever it was he’d gotten too good at with Kurt. “Can we ... not make that a thing?”

Sebastian cocked his head to the side, eyes somehow greener. “I don’t really believe in denial.”

“It’s not denial,” Blaine protested, hating how feeble he sounded to his own ears. “It’s in the past. I forgave you, a long time ago, okay?”

“If you say so.” Sebastian tilted his head back, chin toward the endless blue sky and tan freckled throat on full display. Blaine swallowed around words he meant to be saying, _I do say so_ and other childish comebacks, but Sebastian suddenly said, “Let’s jump off that.”

Blaine followed Sebastian’s pointing finger, and found a nearby jut of cliff over the lake that had a path leading up to it from the shore. The distraction worked, as Blaine raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think it’s safe?”

“Hey! Live a little, Anderson.” Sebastian flashed him a white grin. “Race you.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, but when Sebastian started swimming until it got shallow enough to flat out run Blaine was neck and neck with him, and they scrambled up the hill, Sebastian beating him only because he sent his bony elbows flying when he ran, a lacrosse habit that made him hard to edge out in a race. Once they reached the top, Sebastian paused on the edge of the cliff, taking a deep breath and surveying the lake in front of them.

“More of America should look like this,” Sebastian said.

“Yeah, it’s really …” Blaine’s attention was draw from the landscape to the beach, visible from this vantage point. Cooper and Rachel were still there. Rachel was facedown on her towel now, head in her folded arms, Cooper leaning over her and ... slowly giving her a back massage. He craned his neck, going up on his tiptoes, and he could see how Rachel’s feet were swinging and a weak excuse of a sunscreen bottle lingered at Cooper’s knee, even though they must have been at it for a half hour now.

“What -- ooh.” Sebastian tapped his shoulder. “Down boy. You look like you’re going to go over there and ask them to make room for Jesus.”

“You don’t think -- they can’t actually be --” Blaine couldn’t even finish the thought. “He’s way too old for her.”

“He’s not exactly the Cryptkeeper. Could you blame her for getting wet for him?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Come on. She deserves a little fun.” Sebastian paused, then added, quieter, “I see she’s still got that necklace.”

“Yeah.” Blaine looked away from the sight of the two of them. Sebastian always had been too observant. “Well. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

And before Sebastian could utter another word about _denial_ , Blaine canonballed off the cliff into the cool deep waters below.

\--

As the light started to change to the low, heavy goldeness of pre-sunset, shivering and soaked, they decided to stop swimming and join Cooper and Rachel for some sunbathing. Rachel got up when she saw them coming, straightening her swimsuit and offering a bright smile. “You two didn’t swim at all,” Blaine needled, and when Sebastian snickered, tried a kinder, “There’s still daylight left if you want to.”

“No, it’s alright.” Rachel looked at the lake, nose wrinkling. “It’s sort of … yellow.”

“It’s pollen.”

“Still. Cooper and I had a lovely talk.” Rachel flashed a look at Cooper, eyelashes cast down for a second, flicking them up, and Cooper replied with a slow smile.

“Maybe we should.” Cooper stood up, and offered a hand to Rachel to pull her up. “Go get the beer from the RV, Blainey.”

“You get it!”

“Nah.” Cooper gave him a cheery two-finger salute, then pulled Rachel to the water. When she hovered reluctantly, he picked her up, and carried her, laughing and splashing, into the lake where he proceeded to toss her -- “Cooper, no--!” into the lake before diving in after her. Blaine shook his head -- he had full experience of _that_ move, since Cooper had thrown him into every pool they had come across while Blaine was between the ages of four and, well, now.

“Do you know how many times he’s nearly drowned me?” Blaine asked Sebastian, turning to find Sebastian was rubbing his hair dry with Blaine’s towel. “Hey …”

“Don’t wanna catch a cold,” Sebastian explained innocently, then tossed the towel to Blaine, who bit his tongue on pointing out that the rest of Sebastian was still wet, rivulets curling down his chest and dripping along the hems of his swim shorts down his legs. Blaine’s eyes flashed up, ignoring Sebastian’s amused smile, but thankfully Sebastian said nothing as Blaine turned away, stripping off his shirt and toweling dry quickly before sliding his sweater on.

“C’mon,” Sebastian said then, grabbing Rachel’s towel, and Blaine followed him curiously down the beach to where the college kids had set up, a flickering fire of dubious legality warming their feet. The families were gone, and it seemed the alcohol had emerged. The two bikini Jeep girls from earlier had also come down, sharing a blanket, laughing and talking a selfie with the fire in the background. Blaine had to admit, it seemed a good idea -- he was definitely starting to feel the cold now, as he slipped his still-damp feet into his boat shoes.

“Hey,” Sebastian said to one the guys. “I’m Sebastian. That’s Blaine.”

“Derek.” The dude nodded back, pulling his beanie down. “American?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Canadian.” The guy did have strangely rounded vowels.

“Our friendly neighbours to the North.” Sebastian nodded to their cooler. “Care to share?”

“Sure man, go ahead.” He nudged his friend -- “Alan, some beers,” -- and then handed them two bottles. Blaine told them, “Thank you,” while Sebastian popped the tops on a rock, handing Blaine his with a “Cheers!” and a _ain’t-I-great_ smug look. Blaine tapped their bottles together, huddling deeper into his sweater as he took his first swig.

“So are you all Canadian?” Blaine asked politely, which set off a round of mostly Canadians with the two bikini girls being Swedish and one guy from Pennsylvania. Everyone there was on a road trip, the guy from Pennsylvania being a hitchhiker, the four Canadians apparently fitting into a van which sounded unbearably cloistered.

“Part of the experience,” Derek said comfortably.

It was comfortable. Early dusk was falling, pinks and oranges melting together like sorbet in the summer to paint the sky, clouds falling fat and low to the rim of the the crater. The fire was warm, and between that and his sweater and the towel over his lap and the beer flushing his skin Blaine felt cozy. Sebastian had the other towel around his shoulders, but Blaine could see the faint shiver and goosebumps that showed Sebastian wasn’t feeling quite so cozy, if reluctant to admit it. When Cooper and Rachel joined them, only to say they were going to head up to the RV to change, he made sure to ask them to grab Sebastian’s clothes.

“Hmm.” Sebastian leaned into his space, whispering to him, “Saved me the embarrassment of admitting I was freezing my balls off. You’re too kind.”

“I’m sure they all think you’re very tough,” Blaine murmured back, and Sebastian laughed, knocking their shoulders together. Cooper and Rachel soon returned (Rachel with her wig back on) dressed warmly and bearing the six-packs and Sebastian’s jeans, t-shirt, and even a sweater of Cooper’s.

Sebastian pulled them on over his now-dry swimsuit, tugging on the sweater -- luckily Cooper did favour a bigger sweater, so it fit in the arms and torso -- and then they all launched into a loud, laughing discussion of cultural differences in handling cold. It was to Cooper, lounging in a t-shirt despite the rapidly cooling evening, and Rachel, who had trained herself on morning facial ice baths, to defend the American ability to withstand drops in temperature. Sebastian and Blaine merely huddled beneath their towels and pointed their feet towards the fire.

“My blood is French,” Sebastian protested, waving his beer when the conversation turned to him. “ _Parisian_. You know what it has the decency to do there in winter? _Rain_.”

“Snow is awesome,” Canadian Daniel protested. “Boarding, man.”

“ _Parlez-vous Français_?” Added Alan, and then he and Sebastian started a rapid-fire discussion in French that most everyone seemed to be able to follow except Blaine, Cooper, and Rachel, who ended up commemorating over learning to ice skate, with occasional contributions from everyone else. It was a hectic mess of a conversation, eased by beer and a few bag of chips that had mysteriously appeared, and Blaine found himself laughing and getting everyone's names so he could add them on Facebook when he could. At one point, Sebastian, arguing something, moved his arm so it was behind Blaine, and Blaine leaned into it a little, Sebastian’s thumb twitching in a way that almost seemed like a gentle brush against his thigh.

The moon was high in the sky now, full, radiating softly in white waves that eased the darkness, blotting out most the stars which disappeared like fish under her ocean. Her reach wasn’t that absolute though, and on the edges of the endless sky around them stars shone hotly, and even the occasional shooting star. It was mesmerizing.

Blaine looked away to find his phone to take a picture, and started when he saw Alma kiss her friend, Liv, while taking another selfie. When they caught him looking offered a kind smile.

“Are you two ..?”

“Yes.” Alma poked Liv, who giggled, swatting her hand. “Two years, now. This is our anniversary trip.”

“That’s amazing, congratulations.” Blaine tried to think through the hazy beer warmth to research he always kept a meticulous eye on. “Gay marriage is legal there, right?”

“It is.” Liv resettled herself, cross-legged. “A few years ago. When it happened, I had just kissed a girl for the first time. I cried and cried.”

“I understand that.” Blaine nodded in the vague direction of the East Coast. “I’m from Ohio, but when it was legalized in New York, me and my boyfriend were so happy. I gave him this promise ring I’d made of gum wrappers and it wasn’t an engagement ring but well, we always thought, you know. One day.”

Blaine expected anger or sadness, but he was too comfortable to find it, too fond of the memory of Kurt’s beautiful face opening in eager joy as he popped open the ring box that Christmas.

“One day America will have it for everyone,” Alma promised, sounding confident. “Obama will do it.”

“Hopefully.”

“So you and your boyfriend, you have been dating long?” Liv added, eyes flicking to Blaine’s side. “To be discussing marriage.”

“We’d been dating a year, about.” Blaine scratched the back of his neck, wincing as he could feel a faint trace of dried gel. He didn’t want to know what his hair looked like right now. “But we were both so sure.”

“That was … 2012?”

“2011.”

“So about four years now. That’s a lot!” Alma smiled. “You’re very cute together.”

“Thank you.” Blaine then remembered that he and Kurt were not together anymore, nor was Kurt even physically there. The comfortable arm behind him must have confused him. “I’m single now, though. We broke up.”

Every time he said it it became easier. That was something. Like taking your medicine.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” Alma’s voice dropped. Liv gave a sympathetic nod. “But you stayed friends. That is good.”

“I guess.” Blaine shot a wary glance at Rachel across the fire, who was talking to Canadian Kenny about something, then added, voice dropping as well, “He never calls. I never call. We don’t talk. It’s for the best, I think. I was so angry …”

“But …” Liv’s brows crinkled, then smoothed, laughing. “Oh, I thought you were talking about Sebastian.”

“What?” Blaine dropped his beer in shock, but luckily it landed in his cushioned lap. He picked it back up again, ears burning. Sebastian was still chattering away in French beside him, without reaction, and Blaine inched away from him slightly. “No, no, Sebastian and I are friends. Kurt. Kurt was my boyfriend.”

“Ahh. I got confused.” Liv and Alma shared a look. “I’m sure things will work out.”

“So what’s the gay culture like in Sweden?” Blaine asked, sure he would have nothing positive or honest to say in response to that comment, and they moved on from dangerous waters.

The moon was even larger above them, night truly fallen, before the conversation started to dwindle away. For a while everyone sat there, finishing off the last of their beer and watching for shooting stars, and then it was silently decided it was time for bed. Alan filled the cooler with water and tossed it on the fire, then all the empties went in there. Blaine wandered down to the edge of the water, a gentle lapping of the black polished mirror which reflected the moon above, like she was reaching out to a twin. He could see his breath when he exhaled, so it had to be colder than his buzz would allow him to feel, and he laughed a little, attempting to blow circles as he scanned the horizon for more comets. As a kid he’d thought the sky was like a giant bowl God had placed over the planet, one that had been repeatedly punctured, bleeding through light from some other world where the sun hid at night. Shooting stars were the needle slipping, hastily papered back down to keep the night whole.

“Blaine?”

He turned. Cooper stood there, staring at him.

“Come on. You’re freezing.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.” Cooper came over, wrapping an arm around him and tugging him toward the path up the mountain. Most everyone else seemed to be gone, though Alma and Liv were still sitting together, watching the moon. Blaine waved at them, but they didn’t see, and he sighed, leaning into Cooper’s solid length. As they climbed up the path, he could see Sebastian and Rachel ahead of them -- Rachel appeared to berating Sebastian, finger poking his arm repeatedly, but when she stumbled and veered toward the edge Sebastian gently grasped her by the shoulder and steered her in the right direction.

“Is she upset Sebastian’s with us?” Blaine asked suddenly.

“Who?”

“Rachel, obviously.”

“Nah. She’s worried you’re upset.” Cooper shrugged. “What exactly did Sebastian do? Beat you out for Dalton Overachiever of the Year? He seems cool.”

“He is.” Blaine tugged on Cooper’s shirt. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Kay.” Cooper gave a ruffle to his hair. “You had fun tonight, yeah baby bro?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

\--

Blaine woke up with a mouth that tasted hellish, not helped by hair that seemed to have crawled inside it, and an uncomfortable cramp in his foot. He squinted against the light filling the RV from the front, thankfully sheltered from the worst of it up in the loft bed. Rachel was next to him, still lost to dreamland behind her sleep mask, and it was her hair that Blaine carefully extricated from his mouth. Another benefit of being gay: most guys had short hair. Blaine wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up there. Not that he was so drunk last night to forget, because he did know that they had (or rather, Blaine had) gentlemanly offered Rachel the loft and she had encouraged him to join her. What he wasn’t sure how about was how, in his decidedly less than sober state, he had managed to get into pyjamas and climb up the precarious ladder without killing himself.

Blaine shifted away from Rachel a little, smiling fondly as she snuffled and mumbled to herself, drawing the duvet from Blaine’s bed back at Cooper’s closer to herself. He pulled out his phone. It was nearly noon.

Yawning, Blaine got out of the loft without major incident, finding the RV empty. He checked the fridge, as if Kelly might have magicked up more food for them, but sadly there was just some water bottles. As he popped one open, he wandered to the door, opening it just in time to greet Cooper and Sebastian, who seemed to be coming back from a jog.

“Hey.” Blaine stepped back, allowing them in. “Good run?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Except for when genius here nearly broke his ankle trying to parkour up a rock face.”

“You have to push yourself if you want to get anywhere,” Cooper said sagely. “‘In order to succeed, we must first believe we can.’ Read a book, Sebby.”

“Don’t call me that,” Sebastian said, pulling a face. “I’m taking a shower.” He made for the bathroom with a huff, and Blaine raised an eyebrow.

“How did you manage to piss him off?” Blaine asked Cooper, who stole Blaine’s water bottle and started chugging.

“Mrmph.” Cooper swallowed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “No idea. We were just talking.”

“And yet …” Blaine stole his water bottle back. “We don’t have any food. We should leave soon.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Cooper took a swipe at Blaine’s hair, and he ducked away from it. As Cooper wandered to the kitchen, Blaine dived up front to look at his hair in the rearview mirror. It was nothing short of disastrous -- ungelled, sticking up every which way, flattened on one side from where he’d slept on it. With the shower occupied and no other immediate options, Blaine dug deep into his accessories suitcase until he found a trilby, somewhat squashed, which he popped out and then jammed onto his head to hide that travesty.

Then he went to wake Rachel (ignoring Cooper’s snort of laughter at him) and once they were all up and dressed (and in Blaine’s case, gelled once more, though he decided to keep the trilby on because there was a kink to his hair that wouldn’t go away without proper management) they hit the road again. Sebastian’s bad mood dissipated quickly once he joined Blaine up front, but he noticeably gave Cooper a wide berth when they finished the rim drive and went into one of the food buildings near the south entrance for brunch. After that, they decided to continue their journey north and see if they couldn’t get to Portland before dinner.

“We’re getting a hotel once we’re there,” Sebastian grumbled. They were up front together again, Rachel in the back practising scales with Cooper, the melodic rise and fall of their voices stopping Blaine from turning on the radio. “I need a real bed.”

“Where did you sleep?” Blaine asked with a wince of sympathy.

“Took out one of the sleeping bags.” Sebastian rolled his neck. “We are never actually camping with those.”

“I don’t know.” Blaine signalled, checking thrice before he pulled over into the next lane. It was a lot harder to look over your shoulder in an RV; he was always half-worried he’d kill someone. “I like camping. I think it could be fun.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Blaine looked over at Sebastian briefly before refocusing on the road. “My dad used to take me and Coop, before Cooper became a teenager and wanted to spend all his free time with his girlfriends or his drama troupe.” Two groups with major overlap, actually.

“Huh.” Sebastian shifted, propping his feet on the dashboard. “My dad’s not into that like, sitcom TV dad routine. Camping, cars, talking about girls, whatever. We never did that.”

“What did you do?”

“Watched _The West Wing_ together. Racquetball. Golf.” Sebastian laughed. “I remember when I was like, eight, nine, he let me drive the golf cart for the first time. I nearly drove us into a tree. He started calling me his little speed demon after that.”

“That suits you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Anderson, it’s just common sense to drive above the speed limit. Everyone else is doing it, it helps _avoid_ accidents because you don’t jam everything up.”

“But then where does it end! You’ll end up doing a hundred in a sixty zone!”

“Isn’t that the same argument politicians use when they say sucking dick will make you hump dogs next? People aren’t total maniacs.”

“Except they _are_.” As if to illustrate Blaine’s point, a sporty red car suddenly shot up from their right, cutting in front of him without signalling then swapping lanes again, racing well above the speed limit and gone before he could hope to read the license plate. “See? He’s going to kill someone.”

“But he’s clearly an exception to what everyone else is doing,” Sebastian said. “So not everyone is a maniac.”

“Okay. Fine. But I’d rather do the limit.”

“And nobody here is stopping you.” Sebastian tapped his heel to the dash. “Who taught you how to drive?”

“My dad. You?”

“My grandpa. He died the day I got my license. It was creepy. Like he’d served his purpose and could go gentle into that good night.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Sebastian.” Most of Blaine’s grandparents were dead, except his great-grandma who was alive and kicking but lived in the Philippines so he rarely saw her. Still, he wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“Thanks, but it’s not a big deal. It’s been years. He was cool but we all gotta go some time, right?”

“I guess so.” Blaine didn’t like to think about dying. It seemed too morbid, especially when he got so tired.

Once, Kurt had asked: “Have you ever pictured your own funeral?” It was some time after Kurt’s failed solo audition for the Warblers. Blaine had freaked out, because Kurt had been through so much already and another blow couldn’t help, so he’d taken Kurt to the school counselor. Kurt had gone to a few sessions, which always left him looking vaguely puzzled, but after that he’d stopped asking worrying questions so Blaine had considered it a success. Maybe it hadn’t been what it seemed, and he hadn’t helped at all. That was possible, of course. He’d never know, likely.

“Blaine.” That was Rachel, coming up and touching his shoulder. “We have an idea.”

“What’s up?”

“We were looking at the map, and we think we should stop in Salem when we pass through there.”

“... There’s a Salem, Oregon?”

“Witches on evergreen brooms?” Sebastian suggested.

“Yes, and we think we should stop there for the night. It’s only another hour or so to Portland from there, and that way we could rest up and see the city during the day.”

“That’s a good idea,” Blaine said. “A hotel will be cheaper there, likely.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, we’ll do that. Thanks, Rachel.”

When she left, Sebastian reached over, fiddling with the radio. A second later he found a station, then leaned back, relaxing.

 _Well my heart knows me better than I know myself_  
_So I'm gonna let it do all the talking._  
_I came across a place in the middle of nowhere_ _  
With a big black horse and a cherry tree …_

“So …” Sebastian didn’t finish.

“So?”

“So …” Sebastian waited a second, then abruptly said, “You’re single.”

“What?” That was the last thing Blaine expected. “Yes, I am.”

Why was Sebastian bringing it up now? You’d think he’d wait until he had Blaine near a horizontal surface before he tried anything, if he even wanted to; he’d been incredibly low-key about flirting so far this trip. Blaine tried not to form an opinion on the matter.

“That’s why you’re here, and not in New York.”

“Yes.” Blaine impatiently drummed his fingers. “I left New York, and moved in with Cooper.”

“Okay.”

Was Sebastian going to leave it there? Blaine’s fingers drummed more, totally out of time with the music, and he forced himself to stop. He should drop it too. He shouldn’t …

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m just surprised. I kind of did help plan your proposal, remember.”

“Wait.” Blaine spared him a look. “You didn’t know?”

“Would I ask if I did?”

“I guess not.” All it was doing was annoying and unsettling him, and that didn’t benefit Sebastian much. “In San Francisco, the club, did you think I was cheating on him?”

An ugly thing, if people might expect that of him. Uglier, that they had a right to.

“What about San Francisco?”

“I …” the back of his neck warmed. It was one thing to do it in a club when you were tipsy and hot and grinding in the mass of pulsating heartbeats and pounding bass. It was quite another to _talk_ about it while driving in the daylight, even if driving had a certain hypnotic effect, the requirement of facing the windshield an emotional neutralizer. “I, um. At the back of the club? With a guy? We joked about it, remember.”

“I didn’t think you’d really --” Sebastian made a weird noise. “I’m so proud. It’s like seeing your nestling fly for the first time.” Blaine glanced over. Sebastian was pretending to wipe away a tear.

“Oh, be quiet.” The warmth spread up to his ears, which were doubtlessly burning. “Anyways, you didn’t see on Facebook?”

Sebastian had studiously paid attention to Blaine’s social media in high school. He’d gotten used to Sebastian knowing about changes to it before Blaine did.

“Nah. Don’t really use it anymore.” Sebastian shifted, bringing his knees in closer and blocking Blaine’s mirror of his right side mirror. He reached over to tap Sebastian’s knee, and they both paused with Blaine’s fingertips resting against the push of Sebastian’s legs.

Blaine dropped his hand. Sebastian straightened his legs.

“You missed a lot.” Blaine figured it was best to get it over with. “We broke up a few months ago. I got kicked out of NYADA. And I came to L.A., where Cooper decided a roadtrip would be a great idea. And then we picked up Rachel and you, and well, here we are. Driving to Portland with me single.”

“Shit,” Sebastian said. “That sucks.”

That startled a laugh out of Blaine, one that tore itself out of his chest. “God yeah. It kind of does.”

“Why though? I thought you would be married by now.”

“I was hoping for Labour Day, actually.” Blaine still had a ticking in his head counting down to September 1st, as ridiculous as that was. “But he didn’t agree. We were too young and …”

Something, that he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit. Hadn’t even told Phillipa yet. Definitely didn’t want to say while Rachel might still be in earshot, might still be a phonecall away from Kurt.

“He said he didn’t want to marry me,” he settled for. “So he didn’t.”

“I always knew he was an idiot,” Sebastian said. “You shouldn’t waste anymore time on him.”

He wondered what it would be like to wake up and have Kurt not matter anymore. The idea terrified him, even in his anger and upset. Surely something of what they’d shared would always resonate in him. “I’m trying.”

“Then _we_ need a subject change.” Sebastian cast around for a second, then landed on, “So how about the New York Lizards?”

“The _who?_ ”

“New York’s lacrosse team! Come on!”

“Nobody would know that.”

“Well, _I_ know that.”

Blaine grinned, and with unpractised ease, they moved on.

 _You and me together_  
_Through the days and nights,_  
_I don't worry 'cause_  
_Everything's going to be alright_  
_People keep talking,_  
_They can say what they like_ _  
But all I know is everything's going to be alright_ ...

\--

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: Belle & Sebastian's _[The Blues Are Still Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXuGzdfURak)_ , K.T. Tunstall's _[Black Horse and a Cherry Tree](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JsBN8BKwQQ)_ , and Alicia Keys' _[No One](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tC5IiYpozuE)_.
> 
> Some cliff diving at Cleetwood Cove inspiration at [Crater Lake](http://www.shannontech.com/ParkVision/CraterLake/cl-247.jpg) over [HERE](http://www.craterlakeinstitute.com/crater-lake-news/photos/taking-plunge2.jpg).


	4. but i keep cruising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Public intoxication. Also, they go food shopping, there's some stuff that touches on body image issues.

Salem turned out to be Oregon’s capital, which made Blaine feel like he needed to brush up on his geography.

A little city with a big beautiful river cutting through the lush northwestern greenery, a riverfront park they seemed very proud of, and an impressive large white capitol building. They saw a lot of this, touring before dinner, and Blaine lost himself to taking photos of the giant globe of the Earth in the park and the river and his friends and playing up the tourist act in a way he knew was probably insufferable. Sebastian was a little too worldly for that and Cooper and Rachel both pretended to be but Blaine ended up roping them into more than one ridiculous, peace-sign laden selfie.

They ended up collapsing in the riverfront park after dinner, watching a family of ducks coast down the Willamette River. The pre-evening sun was hot in a way it hadn’t been in Crater Lake, and staring at the river with his fingers curled in the crisp green grass, Blaine imagined swimming. Of course it was probably polluted but he lost himself to the fantasy, the quiet wonder that it had only been a week since they’d started this journey. It felt like so much had happened already and he was tense with it, with a worry of another shoe dropping, September coming, realizations setting in. It all seemed a little too good to be true. Maybe one more week, if they were lucky.

He glanced over. Rachel was on her phone, texting maybe, but he wasn’t sure. He stared at her until Sebastian nudged him, handing over a bottle. As was his wont, Sebastian had managed to get a bottle of wine out of the waitress at the restaurant and had smuggled it into the park. It felt ridiculous, in broad daylight, and the last thing he needed was a public intoxication record.

“No thanks,” he said, smiling politely, and Sebastian shrugged as if to say _more for me_ and took a swig himself.

“Hey, pass that over,” Cooper said, reaching over Rachel and swatting at Blaine’s shoulder. “Hey, Blainey, get him to pass that over.”

“Coop wants some,” Blaine said, taking the bottle from Sebastian. Judging by Sebastian’s leery glance down the line, he was still annoyed about whatever had transpired at his and Cooper’s morning jog. Blaine shot a considering look at his brother, glanced over his shoulder at the park, and then took a swig himself. It burned in that strange buttery way red wine always did, but he felt very flush once it was done.

They started passing the bottle up and down the line, even Rachel taking a few guzzles, laughing. When he asked, “What’s so funny?” she shook her head, leaning back in the grass and her wig fanning out around her, eyes closing behind her glasses.

A family walking their dog passed by, and Blaine hid the wine bottle underneath his knees. Once they were gone it was back out, and it continued like this until the sun started to set, not quite as vivid as it was up where the air was clear and thin, but still beautiful.

Rachel suddenly said, “I never thought I’d get drunk in public, before college.”

“College has that affect,” Sebastian said. “Of course, I was doing it before then …”

“We did it when we got tattoos,” Rachel said, fingers stroking along her side. “To get psyched. We chugged limoncello.”

Blaine started. He knew this story. It was eerie, hearing things like this from the other side.

“Who?” Sebastian asked, laughing. “Let me guess, um, Santana. She seems the type.”

“What’s that mean?” Rachel asked with a glower.

“That she’s going to join a dykes on bikes group and tour America on her hog.” Sebastian nodded seriously to himself. “I can already see her leather jacket and flat top.”

Rachel hacked on a snort. The wine had made her whole face rosy. Blaine lay down so he could see it better, the air rushing dizzily past his ears.

“She considered it,” Rachel confided. “But to answer your question, it was Kurt and me.”

“No way Hummel got tattooed. No way.”

“He did,” Rachel insisted.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“He did,” Blaine echoed. He didn’t need to close his eyes to picture Kurt’s bare back before him, a faint sheen of sweat and the dash of black ink across his shoulder blade. “It says _It’s Got Bette Midler_ across his shoulder.”

He accepted the bottle from Sebastian, leaning up to take a swig, before passing it over to Rachel, who waved it off, so it went to Cooper, who was taking a selfie.

“What? That’s obscurely gay, even for him.”

“It was supposed to say It Gets Better,” Rachel said, “But we were drunk.” She giggled breathlessly.

Sebastian snickered. Cooper, emerging from himself, also contributed a disbelieving “ _Really?_ ” and Blaine frowned into the setting reds and oranges of the sun.

“It looks good,” he defended. “He also got a tongue piercing.”

“Okay, now I know you’re yanking me …”

“I have pictures!” Rachel reached for her phone, unlocking it and beginning to scroll through her albums. Blaine grabbed the wine from Cooper, noting the bottle was nearly empty, and with a shrug finished it off then handed it to Sebastian. “Here.” Rachel showed them one of Kurt’s back, one of him sticking his tongue out, a picture he’d actually sent to Blaine and Blaine may or may not have … studied intensely.

“Dear god.” Sebastian threw his hands up. “Fine. I admit. That’s kind of cool.”

“Very cool,” Blaine said, nodding slowly. The picture still turned him on, while feeling like it belonged to past-him. The disconnect was odd. “Getting a piercing is very brave.”

“Blaine likes it,” Rachel said with a giggle. “Liked it. He likes that look.”

“He’s _obsessed_ with Adam Levine,” Cooper said. “We met him at a party a few weeks ago. Blaine nearly passed out.”

“He’s so hot,” Blaine protested. “And nice. And socially aware. And funny.”

“Mm, killer,” Sebastian turned, tilting himself so Blaine was staring up into his face. “I’m seeing a whole new side of you today. Would you like me better if I got a tattoo?”

“I like you just fine the way you are,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes, and it didn’t come quite as dismissive as he’d wanted. He had maybe had too much wine. Sebastian’s cheeky grin lit up his face, and Blaine tore out some grass to throw up at him. “You’re too skinny for a tattoo.”

“What does that mean?” Sebastian asked, falling back and maintaining some dignity by not throwing grass back. “Do you hear how he talks to me?”

“You deserve it,” Rachel said. “Where’s the wine?”

“Empty, little miss Berry.”

“I’m not a little miss,” Rachel said, and glanced over at Cooper, eyelashes fluttering. “Right, Cooper?”

“Oh, she’s a woman alright,” Cooper said, and Blaine sat up abruptly.

“I’m going to be sick.” He stumbled to his feet and headed straight for the railing that barred you from the river, clinging to it and looking over. He sometimes forgot what a lightweight he was at heart, even if college had pushed his boundaries. But away from Cooper and Rachel’s flirting (he didn’t know what else to call it, even if it made his gut twist) he felt much better. Looking up, he watched a seagull swoop by, going for one last scavenge before night, and lost to following its progress he jumped when Rachel joined him at the railing.

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked, rubbing his back. “We should go back to the hotel.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked at her, the question tugging at him. “Rachel, you and …”

He couldn’t finish. Shook his head, and tried a smile. “Let’s get back to the hotel. We want an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

\--

The next morning, all four of them went jogging -- Rachel proving you shouldn’t underestimate her despite her height, because she kept pace easily even nursing a faint hangover. They were likely to kill each other if they kept at this, Blaine thought; all of them were too competitive, simple jogs kept turning into races. His thighs better look amazing by the time summer was over. Then, after digging into the continental breakfast, they split up their duties for the morning, agreeing to meet by ten back at the hotel in time for check out.

Cooper took Kelly, to whom he had showed more concern than he ever had for his various pet fish growing up (or Blaine, for that matter), to a local trailer park to make sure all her various tanks were either emptied or filled depending by need. Sebastian, Rachel, and Blaine went to the nearby Safeway to finally buy some groceries.

The problem with this, Blaine soon found, was that neither Sebastian or Rachel had ever actually gone grocery shopping in their life.

“There’s no point getting that,” Blaine argued, taking the whipped cream from Sebastian. “There’s no nutritional benefits.”

“But it goes so good on waffles,” Sebastian said, trying to snatch it back. “Back me up, Berry.”

“It is,” Rachel said. “Surely we need _some_ things to liven up our food.”

“No!” Blaine shook his head, pushing the cart away from the dairy section. He’d gotten a carton of milk, some butter, and cream cheese. “The fridge is _tiny._  We can’t fit all this stuff.” A second later. “We can’t even _make_ waffles.”

“Frozen waffles. Duh.”

“Those aren’t even that good.”

“You just don’t like processed food.” Sebastian leaned over, snagging an oversized and overpriced bottle of orange juice that was from concentrate.

“It’s not so wrong to care about what you eat.” Blaine sent a resentful side-eye at Sebastian (who had no visible body fat) as he took the orange juice out and got a more reasonable and healthier bottle. “Not everyone has perfect metabolisms.”

“I agree with Blaine,” Rachel said. “We should treat our body like a temple.”

“Yeesh. You’d think you guys were competing for _The Biggest Loser_. Live a little.”

“We can’t live if we don’t eat right!” Rachel then proceeded to pick up a box of cookies sitting mid aisle. Off Blaine’s look, she said, “They’re low-fat. _Coconut_.”

“Fine.” Blaine relented, then straightened when Sebastian’s considering gaze strayed to the frozen treats aisle. “No ice cream.”

“If I pay for the groceries, will you let me buy ice cream?”

Blaine hesitated. “Fine. One carton. Make sure it’s real ice cream, not a frozen dessert ..!”

Sebastian waved him off, wandering over to the clear fridge doors, but when he came back it was with a real vanilla ice cream. Blaine made a mental note that they needed to buy a cooler bag at some point. The rest of the shopping went like, as Blaine wrangled Sebastian and Rachel, who seemed to be in a subtle one-upmanship to try and buy the most ridiculously unnecessary thing, which had included twenty-dollar mushrooms, pre-prepared sushi, and a discount bag of bruised peppers because “They were on sale.”

“I hope we actually eat all this,” Blaine observed as the conveyor slowly carried their mountain of food forward. That plus the beer, coolers, and wine at the back really did make it look like they were planning to have their closest hundred friends over for dinner. He looked over his shoulder, smiling pleasantly at the old woman behind him in line. Sebastian had disappeared ‘for a moment’ and Rachel had followed. He waited for them as he helped the checkout lady bag the groceries, chatting with her about things to see in Portland and how beautiful the coast was, and once that was all done he was beginning to get worried that he’d have to carry everything himself when Sebastian and Rachel returned.

Bearing Starbucks.

“What …”

“We’re just a state away from Washington,” Sebastian explained, handing a cup to Blaine. “Medium drip, here. We figure, we got to start preparing our bodies for Seattle now.”

“They had a Starbucks right at the back,” Rachel added. “Very convenient.”

“How are we supposed to carry groceries and drink coffee?”

“Steal a cart?” Sebastian suggested.

“Uh, sir, that’s illegal,” the checkout lady, Ruth, said, unimpressed. “And your total is two hundred and six, dear,” she added to Blaine.

“Illegal?” Sebastian asked, pulling his wallet out and extricating his credit card one-handed. “Ooh, scary. Is that a federal or a state restriction? A bylaw? You’ll have to fill me in.”

“It’s store property.”

“And it’ll be a Class C misdemeanor at most. It’s not exactly a Monet on wheels.”

“Sebastian,” Blaine cut in. “We’ll just call Cooper, have him pick us up. Sorry, Ruth.”

Ruth smiled at him. “Of course, dear. Do you want the receipt?”

“Yes, thank you …” Blaine accepted it. “Have a good day, Ruth.”

“You too, dear.”

They managed to leave without further incident and get Cooper to pick them up, which turned out to be the best option anyways because in the heat of the day their ice cream likely wouldn’t survive the long walk back to the hotel. As is, they hid under the shade of an awning and drank their coffee, chatting -- “Did you really have to give Ruth a hard time?” “I just believe in the letter of the law!” -- until Cooper pulled up, and then it was back to the hotel while Blaine worked to fit all their food into the cupboards and fridge. Sebastian, who had paid for the hotel rooms, checked them out while Cooper and Blaine gathered suitcases and Rachel finished putting away the rest of the groceries (she didn’t do much heavy lifting, on principle.) The whole process wasn’t especially efficient, and Blaine was already thinking over how to streamline it next time.

Then they were on the road again, and he set aside that planning for later.

\--

They’d kept the Willamette River in sight as they drove into Portland, and like Salem, it cut through the city, halving it into lush green banks with elegant spire bridges to cross it. Blaine had always assumed this was Oregon’s capital; he did remember it to be the biggest city of the state, and he looked around in interest as they merged into the traffic entering the city. Secretly the city he was most excited about seeing was Seattle, but he’d been pleasantly surprised by all of the Northwest so far. It was growing on him, how alive the cities looked as they allowed nature to thrive in welling bursts throughout the infrastructure. The one downturn, well -- Blaine rolled his window down, sticking a hand out and feeling rain. The sunny day had disappeared as they drove, grey clouds slowly crawling across the sky, and now rain was falling in a misty spray that seemed to match the mood of the sun still managing to shine bright reaching arms through the clouds.

He looked past his finger; they way they were driving right now, he could see a beautiful bridge in the distance. “Can we drive across that, Coop?”

“Sure.” Cooper flicked on the windshield wipers. “Might as well not get out until this stops.”

Blaine nodded, sliding his phone out. A little research as they approached and -- “This is the St. John’s Bridge. It’s a highway, we’ll probably end up looping back around the city … maybe we shouldn’t --”

“A chance to see the sights!” Cooper said excitedly. “Getting lost is just another great adventure! Look at Christopher Columbus!”

“I’d rather not.” Blaine kept scrolling Wikipedia. “Oh, cool. There’s an air tram, let’s do that too …”

Cooper managed to find their way to the bridge with some ease -- he also boasted a great sense of direction, which he did, of course, literally boast about -- and as they drove across it Blaine got Sebastian and Rachel to come up to the front so they could watch. Sebastian folded his arms across the back of Blaine’s chair, leaning into his space and watching as Blaine recorded their journey across the bridge, turning out the rainy window to see a ship that was approaching down the river. Blaine flicked a glance up at him, them impulsively turned the camera up as well, head tilting back. He got Sebastian in frame, intimate closeness smoothed over by the separation of glass, and an upside-down Sebastian gazed at him with a slow smirk.

“Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close up,” he purred, batting his lashes.

Blaine felt a bit warm as he swung the camera back out the windshield.

\--

After they’d parked, Blaine decided he wanted a view to take in the whole city.

This meant the aerial tram was their first stop, and so they’d made their way over the station, looking around at all the sights of the green city. The tram was popular, with actual commuters no less, and Cooper and Rachel (hanging back, talking in low intimate whispers to each other) were left behind when Sebastian and Blaine got on board.

“They’ll catch up,” Sebastian said uncaringly.

Blaine shrugged, and joined him in the back, against the wall.

His excitement grew as the tram took off, and he began to bounce in place, trying to see what was happening around them.

“Don’t rock it,” Sebastian muttered, gaze wary as he looked out the glass walls. Blaine paused, giving Sebastian a considering look.

“Are you scared of heights?”

“No.” Sebastian looked at him, affronted. “I’ve gone _skydiving_ before.”

“Oh.” Blaine settled down at that, leaning against the wall. “Because you seem kind of scared.”

“I’m not --” Sebastian exhaled through his nose. “The worst accident I was ever in, I was skiing in Aspen when I was a kid. The safety bar on my lift broke and I fell about fifteen feet.”

Blaine winced in sympathy. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Broke my leg in two places.” Sebastian stretched out his left leg, indicating it. He was wearing shorts, so he could point to a faint scar down his calf. “Hurt like a motherfucker.”

“I bet.” Blaine did some quick mental math. “That’s got to take at least a year to heal properly. Were you in PT?”

“Mm-hmm.” Sebastian nodded. “It was actually what turned me on to dancing.”

“Really?”

“My physical therapist was a dancer and when I was too bratty to do some other exercises she wanted me to do, she taught me some things. I thought it was cool, what she could do.”

“Well, you learned well.” Blaine smiled at him. “You’re very good.”

“I know.” A pause, then, “Thank you.”

“Why not dancing? Choreography?” Blaine asked. When Sebastian stared at him blankly, he explained, “You said you didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life.”

“Oh.” Sebastian kept staring at him, a different expression now. “I don’t know. I didn’t think about getting a degree in that. I’d want something a bit more … secure.”

“Arts degrees aren’t _that_ useless.”

“For people like you, maybe.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re talented. And not in a ‘every kid gets a trophy’ way. You could dominate the world with or without a degree,” Sebastian explained. “I may be good, but I know exactly how good, and I’m not going to bet my future on that.”

“I still think you could do it,” Blaine said stubbornly. “I appreciate the compliments my talent gets, but it’s a lot of hard work, too.”

“Not saying it isn’t.”

“And I know you’re not afraid of hard work.”

“I’m not.” Sebastian spread his fingers. “I’m also a realist. I could live off my trust fund forever, but I kind of want to make something real. Something that you know -- changes things.”

Blaine nodded. “I understand that, Sebastian. What about law?”

“What about it?”

“You know what I mean. I saw you with Ruth.”

“Putting helpless old ladies on the spot to prove a point?”

“Yes, exactly. Isn’t that what being a lawyer is all about?”

“That’s the subtext of all the latin, I’m sure.”

“So why aren’t you doing that? Your dad’s a lawyer. You seem to get the law.”

“Only because I break it so much.” Sebastian grinned. “I don’t want to be a lawyer, Blaine.”

“Why not?”

“Do you want to do what your dad does?”

“... No.”

“It’s not what people expect. And people expect a lot of things.”

Blaine started when Sebastian started to walk away. Looking around, he saw that the tram was emptying out, having come to a stop. He blinked, dazed. He hadn’t even noticed the view. He followed Sebastian out, as they meandered down the platform, taking in the glass building of the OHSU ahead of them, Portland spread out below them. They settled onto a bench to wait for Cooper and Rachel. Blaine glanced over surreptitiously, taking in the fine angles of Sebastian’s profile, but Sebastian didn’t look like he wanted to discuss it any longer.

A crinkle in his brow, Blaine looked forward again.

\--

They took a photo at the top of the hill with Cooper and Rachel once they reappeared, then took the tram back down. They got lunch at a tapas bar, then took to wandering the streets. Blaine delighted when he spotted, in a near-empty parking lot except for a cute orange bug, a large black-and-yellow mural bearing the infamous Portland slogan: KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD! He took a photo, then got a picture of them all before it. They kept finding their way back to the Willamette, and if his thighs didn’t still remember what hiking around San Francisco had been like, Blaine might have been tired by all the walking.

They found their way to Fourth avenue and the large, impressive red gate that indicated the entrance to Old Town Chinatown. “Wanna check it out?” Blaine asked, and when everyone else nodded they crossed the street and ducked inside. It didn’t take long for him to find a brochure map with some suggested visiting spots, which he was engrossed in as they wandered until Cooper tugged it away from him.

“Actually look around, baby bro.”

“I like to be informed.” Blaine snatched the brochure back, but didn’t reopen it. He was already able to lead them through some impressive sights, like the Union Station (no relation) and the Portland Saturday Market, an open-air market of local vendors which boasted to be one of the biggest in the country. Naturally they browsed for ages between the rows of tents under the finally-returned sunshine. Rachel ended torn between two beautiful handmade necklaces, until Blaine offered to buy one and she got the other.

“Thank you,” she said, as he slipped the one he’d gotten around her neck and fastened it. And then she pointed and said, “Ooh, look, that one over there has bowties!” And he’d been doomed. It had taken both Cooper and Rachel to drag him away from that one nearly a half hour later, after he’d spent a couple hundred on a few new bowties, exquisitely hand-made silk ones with funky prints like he’d never seen before. And he’d seen a hell of a lot of bowties. Like Rachel, he didn’t hesitate to put one on (a strange art deco-meets-octopus design) and put his old one away.

“Portland’s _great_ ,” Blaine said, stopping to admire it in a mirror a vendor had put up so people could check out sunglasses. Cooper shook his head, continuing to pull him along. “Hey? Where did Sebastian go?”

“No idea.”

Blaine texted him, and Sebastian responded with a succinct: _Found the custom ale section_. “We already have enough alcohol,” Blaine groaned.

“I would disagree with that,” Cooper said.

“Look at this,” Rachel said, having somehow gotten her hands on the brochure. “This drag cabaret sounds fascinating!”

“Cabaret,” Cooper said with a head shake. “What a way to waste talent.”

“I think cabaret’s nice,” Rachel said.

“But the truly talented can make it work!” Cooper added. Blaine rolled his eyes. “Speaking of cabaret --”

“Which, I should note, I nearly starred in in high school.”

“Nearly?” Blaine asked.

“It turned out to be just a way to bribe me away from Glee club. I nobly sacrificed it.” Rachel shook out her wig. “But I did very good in rehearsals.”

“What do you think?” Cooper asked Rachel. “Do you think you and I could single-handedly revive _Cabaret_ from the dead?”

“Revive?” Blaine asked. “It’s literally on Broadway right now.”

He’d gone with Kurt. They had both said they’d want to play the Emcee at some point, and that was when the whole June drama had been going on (she’d been the one to get him tickets in the Orchestra) so it had seemed more awkward than it should.

“Broadway’s not the only stage in the world,” Cooper said. “Besides, I was thinking more, _movie_.”

“A reboot of _Cabaret_?” Rachel bit her lip. “Could Liza ever forgive me?”

“Liza’s ancient history. Don’t walk the way of the dinosaur, Rachel, think of the future. And the future is _movies_.”

“I thought TV was having the renaissance right now,” Blaine said. He stopped at a vendor, looking over some beautiful glass-blown paperweights -- Sam had been learning to make things like this, last time they’d spoken -- and Cooper and Rachel actually realized he’d stopped, joining him.

“I’m sure that’s what people outside the industry are saying,” Cooper said, setting his jaw. “But I know it can’t last. TV is dead.”

“Do you think?” Rachel sighed. “I hope TV dies and no one ever streams _That’s So Rachel_ again.”

“ _That’s So Rachel?_ ” The vendor laughed. “Now that was something.”

Rachel let out a nervous, sharp sound, then ran off. Cooper chased after her, and with a smile and a “Nice glasswork,” to the vendor Blaine followed. He seemed to have lost them amidst the tents in the few seconds they had; he looked around, spinning in a circle, then caught sight of Cooper’s familiar shoulders and set off. When he caught up, Rachel was buying a large floppy sunhat that she pulled on and tugged low over her face even as she handed over her credit card.

“Rachel,” Cooper was saying. “It’s okay.”

“I’m a laughing stock,” she groaned. “I almost forgot.”

“You’re not a laughing stock,” Blaine said, and they both took charge of one her elbows as they set off again. She kept looking around like she expected someone to start pelting her with the show’s Rotten Tomatoes score. (A stunning 3% last time Blaine checked, and going down.) “It will all die down soon.”

“Every actor has some failures,” Cooper said, jostling her into Blaine. “You can’t ever think about yourself as a finished product.”

“It’s our failures that help us improve,” Blaine added.

“You think I’m the one who ruined the show?” Rachel asked pitifully, stopping mid-step.

“No, no,” Blaine tugged on her elbow gently. “Just …” he looked at Cooper, like that would help, and Cooper stepped up. He stood in front of Rachel, grasping her shoulders gently and looking her straight in the eye (or trying, past the brim of her hat; Blaine tipped that back for him.)

“What I mean,” Cooper said, “And Blainey ruined --” Blaine glared “-- Is that talented people such as us suffer under the creator’s curse.”

“Creator’s curse?”

“We improve as we create.” Cooper gestured at himself. “As actors, we create with our bodies, our selves. In the process of acting, we learn, and so we can never achieve perfection. That’s why we never stop, and that’s why failures don’t matter, in the long run. Even if it had been good, you would have still been too good for it by the time it ended.”

“Oh.” Rachel smiled tentatively. “That’s actually a really lovely sentiment.”

“Yeah, Coop, that was nice,” Blaine said, nudging him. Maybe he hadn’t been giving Cooper enough credit, lately.

“Besides,” Cooper said breezily. “I _liked_ the show. I thought it was funny, and you did great.”

Scratch that. Rachel appreciated it though, tucking her hair behind her ear and stepping forward to slip a familiar arm through Cooper’s, knocking their hips together.

“Thank you, Mr. Anderson.”

Blaine followed a half-step behind, eyes narrowed, then asked, “What were you talking about, by the way, about cabarets, Coop?”

Cooper’s gaze slowly peeled away from Rachel('s hat) to stare blankly at Blaine. “What?”

“You were going to say something, before …”

“Uh .. oh, yeah.” Cooper nodded. “Speaking of cabaret, why didn’t we go to Las Vegas?”

“We wanted to go north.”

“Well, we should go to Vegas. Do you think we should go to Vegas, Rachel?”

“Sure.” Rachel sighed, her despondency clearly not wholly gone. “I’ve had so much bad luck lately, I must have some good luck left, right?”

“We can’t go to Vegas. We’re going to Seattle next.”

“Sure, sure, but after.”

“We’ll practically be going back the way we came! We won’t hit every state like that.”

“Don’t you want to see mom’s old stomping grounds, Blainey?”

“Your mom’s from Las Vegas?” Rachel asked.

“From Ohio. She just lived there for a while,” Blaine said.

“And she has so many awesome stories!”

“That’s a matter of perspective.” Blaine huffed. “We’re not going out of our way for _that_.”

“We’ll figure something out. Vegas is worth it.”

“Vegas _is_ worth it.” They looked up. Sebastian approached, bearing a large bag which clinked tellingly. “Nice hat, Berry.”

Rachel tugged it lower.

“Hey, I meant that nicely.” Sebastian shook his head. “So. Vegas. That our next stop?”

“It makes no sense!” Blaine protested. “Maybe on the way back …”

“By the time you guys are on your way back to L.A., I’ll probably need to be in New Haven,” Sebastian said. “And I’d love to see you in Vegas, Anderson.”

“I think I’ll do great there,” Cooper said brightly.

“He meant me,” Blaine said, not-so-patiently.

“You don’t own the last name Anderson!” Cooper said, releasing Rachel just to whap the back of his head.

“Why would he be talking to _you_?” Blaine hit him back.

“Aw, come on boys, you’re both pretty,” Sebastian cooed. Blaine glared at him. “And you know I meant you, Blaine, come on. This heat’s getting to you.”

“Let’s go to the Skidmore Fountain,” Rachel said, waving the brochure. “I want to see that.”

“And what about Vegas?” Cooper asked, practically whining. “I want to see _that_.”

“Fine!” Blaine said. “Fine. I’ll plan it out. Like I plan everything.” He couldn’t throw his hands up while bearing a shopping bag, but he figured he got the idea across. Huffing, he cut to the front of the group and led them out of the Market, immediately feeling embarrassed about his outburst but not enough to turn around and apologize quite yet. Maybe he’d dunk his whole head in the fountain once they got there.

\--

Ultimately, he didn’t, but he did sheepishly offer to get a picture of everyone at the fountain edge and they pulled him down to sit with him so they could take a selfie instead and well, that seemed to have about the same cooling effect on his frayed nerves.

That and a lemonade from a stand put him in a better mood as the rest of the afternoon wore into evening, during which they explored the Lan Su Chinese Garden and he found in short order both an amazing comic store and arcade-themed café that Sam would have loved. He took pictures, but didn’t send them.

(Surely it would be too much like bragging, he told himself, but he knew that wasn’t the honest reason.)

“We just need to see the Darth Vader with the flaming bagpipes, and this’ll be perfect,” Blaine said.

“Will you settle for middle-aged drag queens doing cabaret?” Sebastian asked, and with a laugh Blaine nodded.

Hours later, ears ringing with laughter and still picking pink boa feathers from his gel, Blaine fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, his hotel bed not very comfortable and him not very caring at all.

\--

The next morning it was time to leave. Blaine felt like he hadn’t slept enough.

They got the RV packed and checked out much quicker this time. Blaine, looking around at the space, commented, “We really should use Kelly more. I like hotels but it feels like a waste.”

Sebastian grunted. “You haven’t had to sleep on the floor yet.” He then collapsed on the bench, stretching out (Blaine flicked his gaze away) and taking up most of it.

“The loft is free,” Rachel informed Sebastian, who only waved her off, closing his eyes and going, by all appearances, back to sleep. Rachel shrugged at Blaine, then went to join Cooper up front as he started the slow process out through Monday morning traffic. Blaine pulled out his laptop, deciding it was time for another journal entry.

\--

 _Leaving Portland_ _  
_ _July 15th, 2014_

_I’m very confused right now. It’s not a state of being I like a whole lot._

_Sebastian just makes me forget which way the sky is._

_I’m not sure I need to be upside-down while trying to right myself from being capsized._

\--

They crossed the Columbia River and got into Washington before long, and then they reached Olympia. They could really start to see the mountains of the north from here, a large looming lady  with a white top melting in rivulets down her grey sides striking a particularly imposing figure in the horizon. “Mount Tacoma,” explained the waitress at the diner where they stopped for brunch, all a little starved since they’d skipped breakfast. “Biggest in the Cascades.”

“She’s beautiful,” Rachel said.

“You folks headed to Seattle?”

They nodded.

“You’ll see more of Tacoma on the way up, then.”

They didn’t stay long in Olympia, though Blaine lingered in the sweet little town streets. This place wasn’t much bigger than Lima, but it had a great deal more charm, and he wished he could have seen more. As they left it behind them, he felt a strange, sharp sorrow. They’d never be able to see everywhere, no matter how much time they had, and they didn’t have much time at all. He hoped they hadn’t been missing much.

Tired, he decided to follow Sebastian’s lead from earlier, crawling into the loft bed and passing out for a nap. His dreams were the fragmented kind, bright colours and sounds, a glimpse of familiar fingers trailing down his thigh. He was still chasing that when he was shaken roughly awake by Cooper hours later. Yawning, Blaine lifted his head to stare blearily at Cooper.

“What?”

“We’re here,” Cooper said, “Seattle.”

“Okay.” Blaine tried to will his limbs to move, but the duvet was terribly comfortable, especially in the still-lingering coolness of the RV’s A/C. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Oh no, I recognize that. Get going now.”

“Ugh.” Blaine closed his eyes. Sleep’s fingers beckoned him. “Just give me five minutes.”

“First one minute, now five?”

“I’m _tired_ ,” Blaine groaned, kicking out at Cooper lightly. “Seattle’s not going anywhere, is it?”

“No, but we are.” Blaine lifted his head again, but he couldn’t see Sebastian or Rachel. They must either be hiding in the kitchen or, more likely, checking them into the hotel that he could see beyond the windshield. Currently, his familiar duvet seemed much more inviting than their third generic hotel in as many days.

“Not moving,” Blaine decided.

Cooper’s voice gentled a touch. “C’mon, Blainey. It’s Seattle. You’ve been begging mom to take you here for ages.”

That was true. It was the only place on the northwest coast he’d thought of moving to, before now, mostly because of fantasies of getting his medical degree and a residency at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital and beginning a torrid love affair with Dr. Jackson Avery. He’d watched _Grey’s Anatomy_ since he was just a kid lying with his head in his mom’s lap, letting her pet his hair while she watched, engrossed, and he watched, enthralled. She always said she related a lot to Meredith, and to be fair, she was still the only person he knew who liked tequila that much.

She’d never agreed to take him all the way out here -- “the humidity and our hair, darling, not a good combo” -- and it was an argument almost compelling enough to get him out of the loft. He would. He would, once he’d napped some more.

“Just, let me sleep some more, okay?”

“Okay.” Cooper sighed, petting his foot. “Alright.”

Blaine settled back into the pillow, guilt at his sloth beaten down by relief at his freedom, and as he was pulled back into sleep he distantly recognized exactly what he was doing and precisely why Cooper had found it so familiar. But. _It’s not a straightforward journey. Be kind to yourself_. Blaine would deal with this when he woke up again, with a little more energy.

\--

His phone was buzzing.

Blaine checked it, squinting against the light. When had it gotten so dark? He blinked, and the numbers cleared: it was nearly eight in the evening, and the text was from Tina. For a surreal moment, Blaine wasn’t sure when or where he was.

_Tina (7:34): Summer school is the worst hell._

_Tina (7:36): Please distract me I’m dying there’s no AC this violates the geneva convention I’m suing._

_Tina: (7:51): Ugh you suck. You better not be dead in a ditch, Blainey Days._

Last time he’d talked to Tina, he’d told her that he and Kurt were over and he was going out West to clear his head. She had barraged him with questions he hadn’t been able to answer, but he would be hard pressed to find them now, as she had been texting him steadily the whole of his absence. He appreciated them all, but like with Sam, texting back seemed monumental. If he contacted one, he’d had no excuse not to contact them all, and then he’d have to do it regularly, and every single life update would look something like _Still figuring things out_ and their pity might turn into scorn and he’d fall again and things would break. He didn’t want to lose his friends. He didn’t want to …

He turned his phone off, setting it aside. Shoving the duvet off he shimmied to the end of the loft, feeling sort of rumpled and gross. Looking out over the RV, he was startled to see Cooper, who was stretched out on the bench, eating a sandwich and flicking through his Kobo.

“Coop?” His voice came out hoarse.

“Hey.” Cooper looked up, waved the sandwich, then went back to reading.

“What are you …?”

“Reading. _Gone Girl_. I’d do a way better Nick than that Affleck douche.”

“The movie isn’t even out.”

“Still.”

“But I mean …” Blaine looked around. Still no Sebastian and Rachel. “Why aren’t you exploring Seattle?”

Cooper frowned, flicked back, forth, on his Kobo. Finally:

“You really think I’m a terrible big brother, don’t you?”

“What?” Blaine winced. “No, no I  … you know we’re friends.”

“Not just friend. Big brother. I’m not going to let my little brother sleep in an RV alone in the middle of a city.”

“This is Seattle, not New York or Detroit or something.”

“Because pot-smoking hippies have never kidnapped someone.” Cooper snorted, shaking his head like he had personally witnessed such a tragedy. “No, no way. You’re too cute. Someone would try something. I wouldn’t risk it.”

Blaine had a million responses to that. That Cooper had once let him wander off after a strange woman at a mall when he was four because he was too busy flirting with some girl to babysit properly. That he hadn’t cared then, that the girl who didn’t even know Blaine’s name had noticed instead of his big brother. That it wasn’t the first time he’d warned Blaine would be the target of some lecherous old man with a sex dungeon in his basement. That this always had a somewhat homophobic implication. That nobody would break into an RV in a hotel parking lot expecting to find someone to kidnap. That he wasn’t a kid anymore, and he didn’t need Cooper’s hovering.

That Cooper’s hovering the past few months had been maybe the only thing that had helped him start the path back to himself, that all he’d ever wanted, in Ohio and L.A. and everywhere else and in between, was to know that his brother was there.

“Thanks, Coop.” Blaine rubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been to Seattle before.”

“No, I … I’ve kind of been a jerk to you lately. You haven’t deserved it.”

“I’ve probably deserved it a _little_ ,” Cooper said. “It’s my job to annoy you. Keeps you honest.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s the ancient brotherly duty.”

“That’s true.” Blaine smiled briefly, chin in his hands. “I guess I annoy you too, sometimes.”

“Oh, sure. Like, you keep cockblocking me and Rachel, it’s a real bummer …”

“What!” Blaine dropped his hands. “Don’t be disgusting.”

“She’s into me, bro.”

“No!”

“No?” Cooper frowned, setting his sandwich down. “Did she say something?”

“No …” Blaine admitted. He didn’t want to bum Cooper out after they’d repaired things yet again in their rickety bridge of a relationship. “She thinks you’re cute.” Everyone thought Cooper was cute, but he’d heard that from Rachel herself. “Isn’t there a bit of an age difference?

“She’s mature for her age.” It was more likely that Cooper was _immature_ , but Blaine also thought, with a pang, that Rachel had had to do a lot of growing up in the past two years. “Anyways. I’m not out to get into her pants, not really.”

“What? Why not?” _That_ was unusual for Cooper.

“First you don’t want me sleeping with her, now you do. Make up your mind, Squirt.”

“I just mean, it’s not like you to just … talk.”

“I like talking to her,” Cooper said simply. “She’s got a refreshing view of Hollywood.”

“She was only there a few months.”

“And she had her own _TV show!_ ” Cooper’s eyes had a glint, one Blaine had seen for the first time in the McKinley auditorium under the low blue lights. _Someone better and or hotter._ The image of success Cooper projected, and the insecure truth underpinning it. “I’ve never even had a recurring role.”

“It’ll happen,” Blaine said gently. “And her show bombed, remember?”

“It still happened. I meant what I said. It’s all a work in progress.”

“Then that applies to you too! You can’t judge yourself by her.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t,” Cooper said, hands spreading helplessly. “She gets me. I get her. I may not have had anything bigger than a few national commercials -- which is still very impressive, of course, but it lacks a certain pathos -- but I’ve never had that huge failure. And she’s got that big failure, but everything else has been pretty good for her. It’s like we --” he helplessly brought his fingers together.

“Fit?”

“Yeah!” Cooper’s smile returned. “Yeah. It reminds me that I want to do my career right.”

Blaine had been almost swayed. “I think Rachel deserves better than to be your cautionary tale.”

“I don’t mean it like that. She gets it. We talk about our careers a lot.”

“But --”

“I also think she’s talented and hot and smart and probably the only person other than you who could make Broadway worth it.” Cooper rolled his eyes. “Jeez. I forget what a romantic you are sometimes.”

“She’s my friend. I don’t want her hurt.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Cooper insisted. “I won’t.”

Blaine didn’t know if he could believe that, but he also didn’t know if it was his right to disbelieve it. For all the investment he had in the idea of a potential relationship between his brother and one of his dearest friends, he knew that it was ultimately not his business and the decision was going to come down to Rachel, who had the most reason to protect her heart. He would just end up an outside observer to what would either be an electrifying meeting of two strong egos and strong talents or a car wreck of spectacular proportions.

“Promise me, Coop. She’s been through a lot.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” Blaine looked around. “Where are they, by the way?”

“Last they texted, they were at the zoo.”

“The zoo?”

“Yeah. Rachel sent me some snapchats of the lemurs.” He waved his phone, and Blaine thumped down the ladder, shoving Cooper’s legs off the bench so he could sit next to him, taking his phone. There were indeed several adorable little white-and-grey monkeys with big eyes, captioned with ‘I want to steal one! ★’ (a little gold star because that was how Rachel signed off every Snapchat.) It was followed by another: ‘Not that I would as animals aren’t possessions! ★’ He flicked back past the femurs, and there was Sebastian, a large snake draped over his shoulders. ‘Ahhh! ★’ And then another of Rachel with it, wherein the snake looked even huger. ‘AHHH! ★’

“Looks like they’re having fun.”

“Uh-huh. Rachel was complaining at first, but seems they like each other now. Seriously, _what_ did Sebastian do to piss her off?”

“He tried to blackmail her out of a competition once. But that was a long time ago.”

“Not surprised. He seems cutthroat.”

“Not surprised? Just the other day you were talking about how cool he was.”

“One can be cool and cutthroat. Look at Taylor Swift.”

“What?”

“Sucks to not be an insider, huh?”

“You’re not an insider to Taylor Swift!”

“And how do you know that?”

“I just do.” Blaine handed Cooper’s phone back. “I’m hungry.”

“Here, have the rest of this.” Cooper nudged the sandwich plate toward him. “I’m done.”

“Thanks.”

As he picked up the sandwich, eyeing it critically, Cooper oh-so-innocently asked, “So now that we’ve talked about my roadtrip romance, can we talk about yours?”

Blaine side-eyed him, took a bite, and shook his head slowly.

He should have known the sandwich was a trap. Still staring down Cooper, he took it and retreated back to the loft, glancing back suspiciously at Cooper every now and again.

 _Honestly_.

\--

The next day, Blaine showered, shaved, and prepared himself for the new day.

He was actually feeling more like himself, and he knew pulling his image together helped; he was smiling as he followed Sebastian (and Rachel) closely out of the hotel.

“We didn’t go to the Space Needle,” Sebastian said as they hit the streets of Seattle. It seemed that each city they’d stopped in along the northwest had been out to outdo the last in terms of charm and greenery; Seattle wasn’t called the Emerald City for anything, and it made a familiar song start to thread through Blaine’s head as they countless passed parks headed into the downtown core. Blaine was looking around with great curiosity, allowing Sebastian’s gentle tug on his arm to direct him around the flow of people. “Or to EMP Museum. We thought you’d like those.”

“And they’re all in the same block,” Rachel added. “So it’s very convenient.”

Blaine knew what they were doing, and it flustered and embarrassed and pleased him in turns, so he settled for a smile and a half-shrug. “Sounds good.”

“Let’s do the Needle first,” Cooper said. “Maybe if we go now, we can avoid the crowds.”

It turned out this was only partially true: plenty of tourists had the same idea as them, but they _had_ missed out on the crowds of people their age, who would no doubt find it too early in the morning for such things. After a shockingly quick elevator trip to the observation deck, they passed through families leading sleepy-eyed children and elderly couples, establishing themselves at the wire web of crossing lines which made up the barrier to the outside world. Blaine immediately took a picture, looking out at the early-morning light painting Seattle grey something softer, bringing out all the greens, the blue of Puget Sound and the ridged mountain horizon.

“It’s like being in a _Grey’s_ transition sequence,” Blaine said, awed. “I can practically hear Meredith speaking.”

“I know,” Rachel added, raising her own phone for a picture. “It’s amazing. When is the show coming back again?”

“I’m not sure I felt the last season,” Cooper said. “Do you think the next one will be better?”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Blaine said. “It was so real and relatable.”

“Real and relatable?” Cooper shook his head. “Come on, McDreamy wouldn’t go behind Mer’s back like that.”

“People surprise you,” Blaine said, pointed eyebrow raised.

“I didn’t like Callie and Arizona breaking up,” Rachel added. “They always seemed so strong.”

“I don’t know,” Blaine said, “They kind of reminded me of well … my relationship.”

Cooper and Rachel shared a look, and tried to share it with Sebastian, who held up his hands. “I don’t watch this show.”

“I guess we can’t say it’s silly for Cristina to just up and leave either,” Cooper said slowly. “We kind of all did that.”

“Yeah.” Blaine sighed. “When did my life become this?”

“A soap opera?” Sebastian tried.

“An award-winning drama,” Blaine, Rachel, and Cooper chorused back, and Sebastian brought his hands slowly back up.

“Alright, alright, I have no opinion, I’m shutting up.”

“I do wish Cristina wasn’t leaving,” Blaine admitted abruptly. “I get why Sandra’s doing it, but it won’t be the same without her.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“And they better cast another Asian actor next season,” Blaine added. “I don’t know, I haven’t heard any casting spoilers though …”

“We’ll see as it comes,” Cooper said, clapping him on the shoulder. “ _Grey’s Anatomy_ premiere viewing party, my place, be there, be square.”

Cooper stuck his hand out in the middle, and Blaine and Rachel placed theirs on top of him. They looked up when Sebastian’s hand joined them. He shrugged when he caught their looks. “Hey. I don’t like being excluded.”

“Then the pact is sealed,” Cooper intoned eerily, then, brighter, “So do you think the restaurant needs advanced reservations, or?”

“Absolutely,” Sebastian said, pulling out his phone. “But give me a second. I’ll work something out.”

He walked off, tapping on his phone, and Blaine, Cooper, and Rachel waited for him by taking selfies with Seattle in the backdrop. Rachel had to keep clinging to her hat as the wind began to pick up, and Blaine caught more than one elbow to the face, but it was a really nice series of pictures. Sebastian came back, looking quite pleased.

“I go us dinner reservations,” he said. “Window seating.”

“Wow, thanks Sebastian,” Blaine said. “Though we really should have done this earlier, so we wouldn’t have to pay to come up twice …”

“Cities are so different at night. You’re paying for two different experiences.” Sebastian shrugged. “Come on, let’s go check out the museum.”

“One last picture, come here Mr. Selfie Stick …” Blaine grabbed Sebastian’s hand, pulling him over and handing him his phone. Sebastian’s hand was warm and dry and very big, and Blaine found his attention halved until their grip released, after which he slid his own hand into his pocket. They huddled together, got a few more pictures with Sebastian’s reach, and then they were riding the elevator back down and walking the short distance to the museum.

The Experience Music Project Museum was weird enough on the outside to make even Portland look tame; large draped metal in bright colours formed what was less a building and more some kind of installation art project. The inside was just as bright and fascinating; a tribute to everything cutting-edge in pop culture. Once, Blaine and Sam had taken a daytrip out to Pittsburgh for the Toonseum dedicated to the history of comics and cartoons, and this place was similar in the vibe of elevation for the otherwise dismissed. Blaine loved it, spending ages touring the Guitar Gallery and imagining getting to play with a few of the famous instruments on display.

The best part of the museum turned out to be the Sound Lab, however. It already made him smile to see kids jumping around to the sound of drums and developing a love of music, but the real bonus was that museum guests were allowed to get into a soundproof room and jam, and well, by Blaine’s opinion rooms like these should be installed in every building on Earth.

“Can you record what you produce?” Blaine asked the volunteer at work, Stacey.

“Sure. The Jam Studio.” Stacey pointed. “But you’re going to have to wait a bit, there’s already someone in there. Want to wait in one of the other booths? You can practise and learn.”

“Alright.” Stacey led them to an empty room bearing drums, guitars, a keyboard. “So are you guys beginners? We have interactive teaching experiences here.”

“We’ll be fine with just the room …”

“Hey, not everyone here can play every instrument ever invented,” Sebastian said, laughing. “I want to learn how to yank on strings.”

“You’ve spent too long a cappella,” Blaine said. “I can teach you anything you need to learn.”

Sebastian smirked. “Oh, that sounds nice.”

“Stop flirting,” Cooper complained, and told Stacey, “We’ll take this room.” Looking amused, she left them to it. The room turned out to have a kind of reverb technology that allowed you to create an illusion of space that wasn’t otherwise there; Blaine settled on something that thrummed like a whole auditorium ready to fill with an eager audience.

“What song will we record?” Rachel asked. “We should rehearse now.”

“ _Don’t Stop Believin’_ ,” Blaine suggested with a laugh, which made her grin. “We can send it to Mr. Schue.”

“No way,” Sebastian said, speculatively picking up a bass and plucking it. “You know, we probably _could_ go a cappella …”

“It’s not that hard,” Blaine said, coming over and encouraging Sebastian to sit down on a nearby stool, showing him how to hold the bass properly.

“We should finally properly record our Duran Duran mashup!” Cooper said. Rachel clapped her hands together in agreement, but Blaine shook his head.

“That’s not fair to everyone else, is it?” Blaine asked, curling Sebastian’s fingers, “Okay so it’s an instrument you pluck. Middle, index fingers. Yes, good. An ascending scale, going _down_ the neck -- E, F, F#, G, G#, then this is A, A#, B, C, C# … you get the idea?”

“Yeah.” The benefit of teaching anyone with a musical background, especially one strong in a cappella, was that they got this stuff much faster. “What about _Shake it Off_?” Sebastian then suggested. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

Everyone liked that; Cooper seemed to be taking it on himself to teach Rachel piano, even though Cooper had never really had the patience for lessons growing up and left that legacy in Blaine’s hands. He kept half an ear on their conversation to make sure Cooper wasn’t misleading her, as he directed Sebastian through an easy E major scale. They were having so much fun practising and planning their performance that when Stacey came to told them the Jam Studio was free, they told her to let someone in ahead of them and give them more time. Rachel revealed she had a pen on her, and Blaine took the museum guide and found the blankest spot possible to break down line distribution, with his phone opened to the lyrics next to him, listening to Sebastian gain confidence as he played (and making confident mistakes, which were hard to wince at.)

“You guys ready?” Stacey asked, popping her head in.

“Yeah,” Blaine said. Not really on the instrument front, but their vocals would be amazing, so that was okay. “Now or never.”

“Follow me then.”

\--

Was it too early to call “highlight of the trip”?

\--

Stacey gave them a round of applause when they left, their newly downloaded song in hand. She had listened in with the technical engineers who supervised the booth. “That was amazing,” she said, eyes wide. “Not to sound blasphemous to our lady Swift, but I liked it even more than the original. Seriously, you guys must do that professionally.”

They looked between them -- two failed actors, a failed student, and an undecided major -- and shared a laugh. “Not really,” Blaine said, and it was freeing, because it was the first time he’d sang since he was told he _wasn’t good enough_ and it had gone better than he could have expected.

“I don’t believe you, but still, sick.” Stacey pulled out her own phone. “Hey, add me on Facebook, I want a copy of that.”

“Yeah, no problem.” They negotiated friendings, and then Stacey apologetically had to get back to work. They got back to exploring the museum, finishing off with some amazing pop culture exhibits and then heading out to find it was raining.

“Welcome to the rainy city,” Sebastian said.

“Ugh,” Blaine offered, and ducked to share Rachel’s large floppy hat as they booked it to the nearest place selling umbrellas. A chill coming over the day, they wandered the rainy Seattle streets to get some Starbucks, which led to a ‘We have hit peak Seattle’ selfie. They managed to fit some more things in before dinner, and Blaine was looking forward to that, the emotional high of the day fading and needing to just sit down and recharge.

Dinner was incredible. The food was good but the view was even better than the observation deck, and the city did look like a whole different world at night, lit up in warm colours through the haze of the rain, the lights of cars negotiating the streets the only movement they could see from up there, the world a map that ended somewhere in the darkness outside Seattle, falling off into nothing. The crank and turn of the restaurant only added to the surreal feeling of spinning through space, headed off somewhere unknown.

Back at the hotel, Blaine headed out to the balcony to watch the still-falling rain, and looking over he could just see a hint of movement in Cooper and Sebastian’s room. It was Rachel, reclining against the glass, head tilted up, Cooper’s palm flat next to her head. They were just talking, and soon Cooper pulled away, but he saw how Rachel curled her foot into a coy arch against the carpet.

She stepped away. Shut the drapes. Blaine looked back over the view of Puget Sound they had, the ocean dark and endless, curling his sweater in around tighter. He wasn’t surprised when the door slid open behind him and Sebastian came out, bearing two beers.

“I think I’ve been sexiled,” Sebastian said, settling down onto one of the chairs.

“He didn’t say that, did he?” Maybe he could still cling to denial.

“No, but he did send me to get ice and then locked me out, so.” Sebastian dropped an ice bucket as well, which he stuck the beers into. “Sit with me.”

Blaine joined him, reaching down for a beer which Sebastian -- who kept a bottle opener on his keychain, which he explained had been a frosh week gift -- popped it. Blaine took a pull, drawing his knees up. It wasn’t that cold, but after the heat of the rest of the day, he was feeling it.

Sebastian left, and came back with one of the bed blankets, tossing it over them both as he sat down again. “Jesus. It’s supposed to be summer.”

“The rainy city,” Blaine reminded him.

“Yeah, they can keep it.” They sat in silence for a long while, drinking their beer and watching the shimmering sheets of rain plunge earthwards, layers upon layers until it reached the curved edge of the coast, dripping down the overhang protecting them, rhythmically bouncing off the metal of the balcony railing, water droplets curling along the bottom before the got heavy enough to drop, the air wet and full in their lungs but cleansing, too. Blaine might have shut his eyes and drifted off for a bit; he started when something landed on his lap.

Looking down, he found a small package wrapped in brown paper. “What’s this?”

“I saw the ones you got in Portland,” Sebastian said, not quite meeting Blaine’s gaze. “I figure you could get one for every city we go to. The only souvenirs worth getting are functional ones.”

Blaine unwrapped it, and found a white bowtie with red dots and the occasional blue, a fun, poppy pattern that’s vaguely navy-coloured theme seemed to suit the idea of a coast city. “It’s …” Blaine turned it over in his fingers. Excellent quality. “Wow. It’s beautiful, Sebastian. Thank you.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a casual gift like this. “Thank you, seriously.”

“No problem.” Sebastian took a long pull of his beer. Blaine set his own aside, and reached up; he’d already undid his bowtie for the day, which he slipped off, replacing it with the new one that he did up deftly. “Here.” He turned, and Sebastian had his own phone out.

“Let me get a photo, so you can see how you look.”

Blaine grinned. “Mr. DeMille,” he echoed, “I’m ready for my close up.”

“Yes you are,” Sebastian said, and the shutter clicked. “Perfect.”

Exactly the word Blaine would have used for that moment.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: they perform, of course, Taylor Swift's _[Shake It Off](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIOVMHMNfJ4)_.
> 
> The [KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD](http://www.simongarnier.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/20100911-205945.jpg) mural. The Experience Music Project Museum exterior [HERE](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/09/EMPPano11.jpg). Unfortunately, Blaine's art deco octopus bowtie only exists in my mind, but the one Sebastian buys Blaine is [HERE](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1170/2276/products/Yachts-of-Fun_-Bow-Tieb.jpg).


	5. i'll write your name

Their last stop in Washington was Spokane, where they got lunch. Blaine watched, as he had during their drive, but all through lunch Cooper and Rachel behaved just as normally as they had the day before. If something had happened last night, they were giving nothing away, smiling and flirting with no more intensity than usual, getting into an argument about focus pullers vs. grips’ relative importance on set at one point.

By comparison, Blaine was feeling oddly flushed and jittery, unable to concentrate whenever he found himself locking gazes with Sebastian. He knocked over the salt shaker at one point when they both reached for it, fingers brushing, his spine jumping hotly. He was wearing the bowtie, and it felt like a comfortable hold against his neck, and Sebastian kept touching his own collar, absently, like he was thinking of it.

It got so bad even Cooper and Rachel started sending them suspicious looks, and Blaine offered to drive and dragged Rachel to sit with him to break things up.

Their current plan of action was somewhat off the wall, but thoughtfully planned: in order to keep to Cooper and Blaine’s ‘every state’ plan, while also making their way down to Vegas, they would drive straight through Idaho to get to Montana, mostly taking the chance to drive through Big Sky Country and get some of the infamously beautiful sights in. Then it would be back down into Idaho, checking out its place of note (“Idaho has places of note?” Sebastian had snarked), then Utah, and then finally Nevada and the Vegas Strip.

“Can we camp in Montana?” Blaine asked. “It’s practically a requirement.”

Everyone, even Sebastian, agreed to that, and they set off. It didn’t take long to cross the border into Idaho, passing through a beautiful small town called Coeur d’Alene on their way, which was set into the rolling forested hills, nestled against a mass of twisting, turning blue lakes; as they got high on hills they could see all of this spread out before them, before they dipped down again the trees swallowed them. Honestly, potatoes were generally the first thing Blaine thought of when he thought of Idaho, but his opinion was already changed by the time they crossed yet another state border into Montana. Rachel was talking his ear off and Blaine responded whenever necessary to encourage her on, which wasn’t often, content to listen as she gushed about the nature around them, Cooper, things he hadn’t seen in Seattle, Cooper, opinions on current music, and Cooper.

The mountains that swept up to the sky around them and the tall trees which thickly carpeted their rise started to widen out the further into Montana they got; not disappearing, but resettling, as if all the extra space let them stretch out. The day wore on, thick clouds drifting across the blue sky not lasting long at all, or maybe he was driving so steadily that they were left behind; Rachel switched to the radio, singing along to Lana with sweet sincerity:

 _She says, "You don't want to be like me,_  
_Don't wanna see all the things I've seen."_  
_I'm dying, I'm dying_  
_She says, "You don't want to get this way_  
_Famous and dumb at an early age."_ _  
Lying, I’m lying ..._

They lost that radio station when he impulsively turned down off the main highway, following a road which led along a broad lazy river, grass and trees and mountains their only companion as they went down the narrow road. Rachel searched, and found a country station that the clung to even as static invaded it, eventually stealing that away as well as Blaine turned deeper into the wilderness, feeling a bit reckless. He had a vague idea where they were on the map, but he had a vision of Big Sky Country that he wanted to find, only sure they were going deeper into Montana because the setting sun was behind them, painting the road ahead red and setting the sky awash in a creeping orange that covered up the blue, dragging the red-purple of early dusk in its wake.

They passed through a small junction city, stopped and got gas. The attendant, upon hearing Blaine’s request of, “Somewhere nobody else sees,” pointed them and off they went.

Another half hour, and the half-moon had risen, a big beacon in the sky which was guiding them down a narrow unpaved road. There was a brief burst of rain from nowhere, torrential against their windshield, but another fifteen minutes later and it was gone, only a clear night ahead of them.

“We should stop,” Rachel said. “It’s not safe to drive this late.”

“Just a bit …” Blaine fell silent. His headlights had picked out, in the distance, a jut of rocky plateau that was framed by thick trees, a grove underneath. “There.”

They pulled well off the road, and parked. Blaine kept the headlights on, flooding the ground as he got out to check it out. Looked solid, and was set on a slight incline so that they wouldn’t wake up to a flash flood having soaked their tent.

“Let’s set up here.”

For future record, Blaine would have to remember that setting up a tent with two people who had never done it and one who hadn’t gone in ages, at night, was not recommended. But they got it eventually, two decent-sized rounded tents.

They all hesitated, staring at each other, and Rachel shared a long look with Cooper, which made Blaine sigh and turn to Sebastian.

“You can sleep in the RV if you want.”

“No. Let’s try this ‘roughing it’.” Sebastian contributed some sarcastic air quotes, and followed Blaine into one of the tents. “Could anybody other than an Oompa-Loompa be comfortable in these things?”

“Boy Scouts, we used to fit five in a tent like this,” Blaine said, laughing.

“Boy scouts too?” Sebastian sat, poking the tarp bottom in consideration. “I could never do that. Too many rules. Too much Jesus.”

“I didn’t do it for long.” Blaine picked up one of the sleeping bags, unfurling it along one side of the tent. “They found out our scout leader was gay and banned him. The whole group fell apart. All the parents freaked because they came in and asked us all these questions about whether he’d ever touched us …” Blaine gave a bitter roll of his eyes.

“You know, if they took one look at the uniform they have to wear, they’d realize that banning gays is a lost cause. Neckerchiefs? Really?”

Blaine snorted, lying down on top of his sleeping bag. He’d have to go get changed and brush his teeth soon, but for now, he stared up at the dome of the tent and listened to Sebastian set up his sleeping bag, cursing quietly as he got it straightened out.

“How old were you?” Blaine asked. “When you first came out to someone?”

“Huh. Eleven, to myself, at baseball camp when we made out on a dare. We got our asses dumped in a lake for that.”

“Typical.”

“Yeah. You?”

Blaine smiled quietly. “I don’t even remember when I first realized it. Looking back, it just seems so obvious, you know? I didn’t just watch _ER_ for the plot --”

“That would be a miracle.”

“Shush. It was good.” Blaine had truthfully dropped it around season five, which. “I watched it for George Clooney.”

“More understandable.”

“First time I came out to someone, though, that was my friend, freshman year. We’d just met at soccer tryouts and I thought he was so cute and he warned against being his friend because he was gay and other guys gave him shit for it, and I was like, Hey, me too.”

Sebastian laughed. “Outing yourself for a cute boy. I like how you roll, tiger.”

“I know. I was so surprised,” Blaine could still remember Nathan’s matching grin and easy acceptance, his floppy hair and love of hip-hop and one-handed cartwheels. “He took me out to McDonald's to celebrate. I think that was my first date with a boy, even though we never dated.”

“Why not?”

Because he had no idea what to do, because he was fourteen and learning what being shy was like for the first time, because his voice was cracking and he was dealing with acne and bullying from peers and teachers looking away and romance wasn’t top of his list. Because Nathan was cool, so much cooler than him, and he had no idea how to pitch himself. Because Sadie Hawkins had happened, and Blaine’s first kiss with a boy, and well .... Because then Nathan had moved to Vancouver, and Blaine had never heard from him again.

“It wasn’t the right time.”

“I get that.” A quiet silence, then, “Do you think timing is all chance?”

“I think … people are more complicated than that.”

“So fate?”

_Fearlessly and forever. My soul knew. Eternity. All I want to do, all I've ever wanted to do is spend my life loving you. My one true love._

It lingered between them, as physical as if the Dalton staircase had corkscrewed up out of the ground, even though it had no place in their friendship, their ... connection. He’d never felt that way about Sebastian; he wasn’t sure he ever could, if he ever _wanted_ to. There weren’t any expectations. He could breathe, and he did, turning that over in his head.

“Fate is …”

Messy. Traitorous. Unsure.

“It’s being so lucky to meet someone, that you wouldn’t change a thing, even if the circumstances suck and it would improve your life. Because they’re worth it. Worth any pain, any upheaval, all your effort. They’re a counterbalance to your life. Something so powerful, so positive, that you’re better for knowing them.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get that,” Sebastian admitted quietly. “How you can sound so confident about these things. I see life more simply, I guess.”

He’d always thought soulmates was the uncomplicated way of viewing things. He’d also always thought of boundaries as walls, not places to grow in. They said you had to be less rigid or you would break, not bend, and Blaine knew why he was reassembling himself now.

“People have left me a lot,” Blaine admitted in turn, voice even quieter. “And hurt me. I guess I like to think I’ll get something good, in exchange. Something permanent.”

“I don’t think anything’s permanent.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I don’t think so either.”

“I spent too long trying to keep things. Own them.” There was a rustle. He could feel Sebastian’s gaze on him now. “You do that, and you lose things. Push them away.”

Blaine nodded slowly. “I’m familiar with that mistake.”

“So maybe that’s my take on fate,” Sebastian said. “That person you’re lucky to meet, and they’re just as lucky to meet you too, so you don’t have to ask them to stay.”

“They just want to.” Blaine rubbed his ring finger, that had never had a ring. “Because they need to.”

“And that can’t happen with just anyone.”

“No, it needs to be someone special.”

“Someone really special.” Sebastian suddenly barked out a laugh. “Christ. All this is doing is reminding me of that last time we spoke, when I totally embarrassed myself.”

It would have been very rude if, the day of Blaine’s proposal with Kurt on his way back to New York, he hadn’t taken the time to thank everyone personally again. It would have been very rude of him not to pull Sebastian aside for a conversation. It had been very rude of Blaine to only stare in blank shock when Sebastian had curled his fingers around his wrist and --

“You didn’t embarrass yourself,” Blaine said, looking over. Sebastian was watching the tent roof, but he turned when Blaine did. “I’m … glad you said that.”

“Had to get it out sometime. Wasn’t going to do it at your wedding.” Sebastian pulled a face. “I wasn’t going to _attend_ your wedding.”

“Then I guess you’re in luck.”

They stared at each other, a laugh building in Blaine’s chest that he fought until it seemed silly, rolling onto his back and laughing loudly. Sebastian joined in before long, and they laughed into silence again until they heard a sort of distinctive moan from the tent next door, which set them off again. “Let’s get some booze,” Sebastian said, sitting up. “I can’t sit here and listen to the heteros, I just can’t.”

“Maybe she’s just getting a massage.”

“Yeah, dream on, Anderson.”

They headed to the RV, grabbed some of the custom ale from Portland, and climbed their way in the dark to the peak of the large jutting rock. It took much cursing and stumbling, but soon they broke through the trees and the moonlight guided them, as they settled on the edge and looked out over the expanse of scrub grass and trees which made up the countryside until it melded until the ever-present mountains. They drank the woodsy ale, watching the moon rising higher and higher, reflected in a nearby pond and the occasional warm glow of a rare firefly, looping in and out of the air as a warm breeze tickled their bare feet, left hanging over the edge of the rock. They didn’t continue their conversation, and when they’d finished they made their way back in the dark, taking turns getting ready for bed and falling asleep in their tent, everything silent except for the crickets and the wind rustling their tent.

Blaine stayed awake a while longer, though, tracing random circles on the tent bottom, and thinking.

\--

The next day was all about finding their way back to civilization; regrettably, in Blaine’s opinion, but time and casinos waited on no man.

Cooper drove away from the rising sun, somehow not finding that little junction spot again, but he did find them the name of the feeder road they were on, which Blaine used to plot their way back to the Montana border, southbound, so they could let out in the direction of Idaho Falls. Blaine, not driving, was able to see more of Montana and get back to his photography; more than once, he’d made Cooper pull over so he could get a picture of a certain play of light on the mountains, a spray of a river, a copse of trees determinedly breaking through a slab of nearly blue stone.

What really made big sky country what it was, he decided, as he played with the depth of field, was that everything seemed immense, neverending, a splay of land under the big blue sky, and yet you felt like everything was within reach of your grasping fingers. The mountains he admired were likely hundreds of miles away, yet it was easy to trick yourself into thinking they were a short stroll away. Everything so far away, but because it was so far away, with nothing to interrupt your view, everything was made closer in turn. It was … humbling, maybe, even isolating, as you were left just as apart as everything else, but it was an aloneness where you were never without the sight of a distant something to act as safe harbour. A visual anchor.

Blaine didn't know if he liked it, but he was drawn to it.

It was early afternoon when they crossed into Idaho, which didn’t make much of a change to the scenery, but it did shake the almost pleasant melancholy the last state had seemed to bring on. It helped that they’d long since found their way to a highway, passing by other RVs and cars and passing by various small communities. It was nearly dinnertime when they arrived in … Boise.

“I think we took a wrong turn,” Cooper said, squinting at the road sign as they drove toward a mid-sized city. It was big, and bearing the large boulevards of a well-maintained urban centre. It almost seemed like a mirage, rising out of the rolling hills and mountains around them, lush and green in a way that they’d been leaving behind as they headed further south.

“Well, we can get dinner here, then head on to Idaho Falls,” Blaine said. “It seems about hmm …” he checked Google Maps and the map book spread across his lap, correcting his earlier mapping of their map with another swipe of red marker. “Four hours.”

That had been one hell of a wrong turn. Maybe that had been his fault; he had been more engrossed in his camera than he had his navigating.

“Alright.” Cooper pitched his voice louder, over the radio. “Hey guys. We’re in Boise for dinner.”

“Boise?”

“Is that how it’s pronounced?” Rachel asked, coming up with Sebastian to hover over the front seats, watching the city as they pulled in. “I thought it was Boy-see.”

“No, it’s Boy-zee,” Cooper said. “Boy-see sounds silly.”

“Boy-see,” Blaine said, taking Rachel’s side. “We covered this in NYADA.”

“Is that really what they teach you in acting school?” Sebastian laughed to himself.

“It’s to teach us accents,” Rachel explained. “We pair up with someone from another state, and we try to teach each other how to speak in each other’s accents.”

“Molly from Boise,” Blaine said.

“For me it was Jake,” Rachel said.

“NYADA had two people from Boise? _Really_?”

“They were talented.”

“I guess that’s not ridiculous. You’re both from the same high school in Ohio and got in.”

“Three of us.”

“Three of you.” Sebastian squinted. “And here I thought the end of _High School Musical 3_ was a bit much.”

“You saw _High School Musical 3_?”

“What? And you didn’t?”

“Of course I did!”

“Then there we go.” Sebastian grinned at him, and Blaine had to smile back. “So who’s ready for an all-potato dinner?”

“It’s a big city. They won’t just serve potatoes.”

“I’m in Idaho. I want to eat some damn good potatoes.”

“That does sound good,” Rachel said. Then, “What if that’s an unfair stereotype, though? What if they don’t actually have that many potato farmers?”

“We’re from Ohio,” Blaine pointed out. “How much corn have you eaten, growing up?”

“So much.” She turned a haunted gaze into the distance. “So much.”

“Too much,” Cooper added, groaning. “If there’s as many potatoes in Idaho as corn in Ohio, then we’re screwed.”

“You midwesterners are so cute,” Sebastian said. “I say, bring it on. Got to eat each culture’s delicacy so you can truly be part of them.”

“Oh yeah, white people potato culture.” Blaine nodded. “Can’t wait.”

“The sass …” Sebastian threw an arm around him, dragging him back toward the table. “C’mon, potato hater, let’s look up some restaurants that will satisfy everyone.”

“I don’t hate potatoes!”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Potatoes are fine.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“Potato bigot.”

“Be quiet. You're ... nonsensical!”

“Nonsensical about potato justice, yes.”

“Just Google, will you?”

“Dirty.”

Blaine shook his head, and tried to hide a grin as he watched Sebastian use his phone.

\--

They ended up on a place that boasted ‘globally inspired northwestern cuisine’ (with ‘Berry’ in the name, much to Rachel’s delight, as she spun off into a fantasy about being a celebrity judge on Iron Chef and inspiring young vegans everywhere) that was upscale enough that all the guys wore long pants and button-downs, and in Blaine’s case, a blazer, and Rachel emerged in a beautiful empire-waisted summery dress and one of her new necklaces. And Cooper had thought Blaine was crazy to take along an iron, but they looked good and wrinkle-free when they entered.

Sebastian, in a mood to play which, like a cat, came across like hunting, even if the subject was so mild, encouraged them to get some kind of potato in all their dishes. They got the server to take a picture of them, and after they were well-fed and ready to get back on the road, Blaine had to admit defeat: “The jacket potatoes were really good.”

“See.” Sebastian smirked. “I know best.”

“Just for that, you get to drive.”

“Only if you sit up with me.”

“Fine.” Blaine did just that, bringing his laptop with him. The sun was setting as they left Boise for Idaho Falls, and the glow of his laptop screen illuminated him as in the back, Cooper and Rachel switched off the lights and apparently settled in to watch a movie on his tablet (from the sounds of it, _Titanic_.) He decided to update his journal, drumming his fingers on the edge of his laptop as he watched Sebastian drive, one hand on the wheel, the other hanging out the open window, the loud rush of the highway wind stealing away easy conversation and the low music of the radio. Blaine turned it off, and switched to his own music library, cranking up the laptop volume as he set in to write.

 _Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer_  
_Hard to be soft, tough to be tender,_  
_Come take my pulse the pace is on a runaway train_  
_Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer_ _  
Beating like a hammer …_

\--

 _July 18th, 2014_ _  
_ _Somewhere between Boise and Idaho Falls_

_I know you’ve asked me to write about things other than Kurt and the proposal. And I swear this isn’t about that, not really. It’s about Sebastian, but he’s always had a place in the story of me and Kurt. But we’ve also had our own story. I always thought of it that way. Kurt knew I did, and that bothered him, but they never became friends and I liked having my own thing._

_When I met Sebastian, I didn’t have any other friends. Mike and I hung out sometimes, and I had Kurt and Kurt’s friends, but nothing really on my own. Sebastian was my friend. Was. I said I didn’t know how to describe my relationship to him, and that’s true, because if we were just friends we never would have had all the problems that we did. And we did. So. The proposal._

_It’s very weird to type this looking at him. He’s looking at me now. I think he knows I’m writing about him. I might finish this later._

_Okay it’s later. We’re in Idaho Falls. We got in so late we decided to crash in a motel. Rachel’s back in my room. I still don’t know if she and Cooper are dating or hooking up .  . . which is so disgusting, no offense, Cooper and Rachel . . .  but I can’t ask. She’s not saying anything. But she looks happy._

_Sebastian and the proposal. I hope you don’t mind my rambling. I try to be concise. Before it he was very helpful. We talked a lot, planning it. He did all the choreography, with some help from Jake. Have you ever tried to coordinate one musical number between four different Glee clubs? It’s a nightmare. But he managed it fine. And so I went to thank him afterwards and he put his hand on my wrist._

_It surprised me. I didn't expect him to ever touch me. He kept his distance. It's how I knew he was going to say something I didn’t want to hear so I asked him to be quiet and that upset him._

_“I’m not asking you to change your mind” he said. “Just listen to me.”_

_And I listened when he told me that helping me plan that proposal was the hardest thing he had ever done and he hoped I had a fucking perfect life  . . . that sounds mean just written down but he said it like he meant it, like he really wanted the best for me . . . because he’d put lots of effort into it. Into me. That he didn’t want to cross a line but. Well he said something that stuck with me._

_“I hope you know you deserve to be happy, Blaine. I hope you know you deserve the best, and I hope you know when you have it.”_

_I thought I did. I doubted for a second, but I told him I did. He said goodbye._

_So it turns out I was wrong, and I think he’s always known me better than I liked to admit._

_I really missed him, after that. Even if we talked, it wasn’t the same._

_He said goodbye, and I knew what it meant, deep down. And I miss him._

\--

Idaho Falls greatest feature was its namesake, the beautiful step falls coursing over rocks in white froths and swirling energy that was created by a man-made dam along the Snake River. Blaine found it adorable; they certainly fit the small, lively atmosphere of the town. They didn’t stay long, though, deciding to drive down to Salt Lake City that day. So they left Idaho Falls behind, crossing the border into Utah and getting to Salt Lake when it was still morning. The city itself was remarkably square and clean-cut -- which made sense, seeing what it was known for -- but the large mountains that braced the city seemed to elevate everything. As he Googled things to do on his phone while Sebastian looked up hotels, he hummed.

“So …” Cooper looked over at him. “What’s the word? All Mormon stuff?”

“Lots of it,” Blaine said. Rachel leaned over him, and he turned his screen for her to see her as well. “It could be interesting. We’ve got to see Temple Square, at least.”

“Let’s go see the tabernacle choir!” Rachel said eagerly.

Blaine looked that up, shaking his head.

“Seems they do practise publicly -- but only every Thursday, sorry Rachel … we can go see the organ recital, it happens at noon.”

“I’ve heard the acoustics are incredible there,” Rachel said. “Let’s do it.”

“I just wanna see the big lake,” Sebastian said.

“Alright. Temple, organ, maybe walk around, then we can see the lake …”

“Sounds good … what’s with that look?”

“Antelope Island,” Blaine said, scrolling in interest. “It’s in the middle of Great Salt Lake. It has camping and bison!”

“Why is it called antelope if there are bison?”

“I don’t know, maybe there are antelope too …” Blaine nudged Cooper. “Hey, Coop, forget the hotel. Let’s do this instead.”

“And leave the RV where?”

“You can take the RV. There’s a causeway.”

“You’ve thought of everything, have you?”

“Of course.”

“I like it,” Rachel said. “I liked camping the other night.” She and Cooper shared a brief smiling look.

“I bet you did,” Sebastian said. “Now let’s go check out Mormon Inc. I’ve heard this thing is a monster.”

\--

The temple really was a remarkable feat of construction -- it soared into the air like something you might be expected to climb in _Assassin’s Creed,_ white stone with tall spires and elegant windows that put the art in geometrics as they covered every inch, letting in the sunlight that it caught from its tall position above the nearby trees.

Blaine had been raised just as Catholic as his father had wanted, enough to suit his own mother (an imposing woman who never wanted her grandbaby to be raised wrong; they weren’t the family she’d ended up living with in her later years but she’d still done her tours and Blaine had gotten used to the “Opo, lola, I do my prayers every night …”) but he’d moved away from that as he got older. If nothing else, Kurt had not been a friend to religion and Blaine had agreed with his logic, but on a more personal level, it had been hard to walk into a place as sacred as a church when he felt like he wasn’t wanted. Without the structure of that, his other beliefs had fallen wayside, but no matter his religious feelings he could admire a beautiful aesthetic, and the temple was certainly that.

He simply had no intention of going inside. Luckily, the most religious person there was likely Rachel, and she obviously had no pressing desire to explore further.

They wandered the downtown, window shopping and pointing out pieces of architecture they particularly liked, then suggested ideas for lunch. Then it was back to Temple Square for the Salt Lake Tabernacle and its organ recital. The building was a large, beautiful silver semi-oval of an amphitheater, and as they were ushered quietly inside he looked around admiringly. The inside was free of support columns in the middle, just a large smooth open space, with three walls bearing the columns and seating and a fourth boasting the large organ, which the man leading them in said had over eleven thousand pipes and five different keyboards.

Blaine had never actually played an organ before, but he found his curiosity growing as they sat down. Once everyone was seated and hushed, they demonstrated the acoustics: dropping a pin near the front, which you could hear clink like it had been right next to your ear, even seated near the back as they were.

Blaine and Rachel shared a look. He knew they were both imagining what it would be like to sing in here.

The concert was a lovely tour de Bach, the organist playing well, and Blaine settled back with his eyes closed as he listened. He could feel Cooper’s leg bouncing impatiently next to him, but he put it from his mind, letting the music wash over him. He had played this piece right here, _Gigue_ , once before at his grade six piano recital. He distinctly remembered this as the last time his parents had both attended, as a unit, one of his performances. It should have made him sad, but this was why he had music -- he didn’t need to be swept away by himself when the power of the fluting notes filled the air and poured into him, coalescing into that knot of pure feeling which ached against his heart and simplified things that otherwise complicated him, his mind, his heart.

He started when a handkerchief was pressed into his hand. He reopened his eyes, and found that Rachel had passed it to him, and with a rueful smile he dried his cheeks. At least she seemed to understand, eyes bright behind her glasses. When he returned her handkerchief, she grabbed his hand, and they held each other as the concert came to a final, resounding finish.

There was much applause after that, and once final bows were done, Blaine joined his friends back outside in the sunshine. He blinked against it, the music still echoing in his ears.

“That was amazing,” Blaine said, as they started to make their way to the restaurant where they’d be having lunch.

“Boring,” was Cooper’s review.

“Very lovely,” Rachel offered.

“I fucked a mormon once,” Sebastian said, “And I swear I saw him near the front. Very distracting. But I don’t know, maybe they all look the same.”

They all stared at him.

“What?”

“I don’t know what’s weirder,” Cooper said, “The idea of a gay mormon or one who puts out.”

“What? Never seen _Latter Days_?”

“What?”

“It’s a movie, Coop,” Blaine, who had consumed every piece of gay media produced in the past three decades, said patiently.

“Thank you, Blaine.” Sebastian paused before opening the door to the restaurant, spreading his arms wide and pinning Blaine with a heated look that pierced right through him. “Besides, it should be obvious by now. I can make those good guys bad for a weekend.”

He winked, then whistling _Blank Space_ , entered the restaurant.

\--

Blaine was happy to be camping again.

They had to pay for this spot, plus the entrance of their RV onto Antelope Island, but it had been worth the trip. Sort of beautiful and desolate, it perfectly complimented the Great Salt Lake around it, whose water was an odd steely shade that made the whole thing feel like it had been dropped out of a vision of the moors. Even the summer sun seemed weaker out here, filtering lowly and hardly changing as dusk came on. The bison, moving in shaggy herds a healthy distance away, had blended into the coming night before they decided to make their way along the beach back to their campsite. They were sharing it with a nice but private family, and their fire was faintly visible in the distance, but otherwise they let the waning moon guide them.

Cooper and Rachel had gone back to camp earlier, saying they’d ‘set up the tents’ but Blaine highly doubted anything of the sort would have been done.

“Are we going to spend this entire vacation sexiled?” Blaine asked.

“So you finally admit they’re having sex?”

“No. There’s just not a catchy way to say ‘ambiguously engaging in activities’ exiled.”

“Is it really a traumatizing idea?”

“If you had siblings, you’d understand.”

Sebastian conceded that one. They came to a stop, looking out over the lake toward the distant lights of the city over the water.

They’d gone swimming earlier, finding that the lake’s buoyancy had not been exaggerated; Blaine had fallen asleep, flat on his back and floating easily in the oddly shallow water, drifting easily in and out of his dozy state as he let the late afternoon sun warm him. He was pretty sure someone had gotten a picture; he’d heard the shutter sound, and smothered laughter, but when he’d pulled himself awake everyone had been innocently splashing around the lake. Blaine shrugged it off -- it wasn’t like he _didn’t_ want to remember this strange, beautiful place.

He didn’t want to forget a single thing about this trip, even the bad things, and those had been so rare. He glanced up at Sebastian, who was deep in thought.

“Do you think I could sleep on the lake?” Blaine asked, nudging him.

“You’d float away,” Sebastian said. “We’d never see you again.”

“I suppose you could tie me to a log or something. Then I could float without going away.”

“Gotta say, that’s not how I thought you’d inevitably ask me to tie you up.”

Blaine groaned, shoving Sebastian. “You’re terrible.”

“Incorrigible.” Sebastian grinned cheerfully. “Obviously you should tie _me_ up so I don’t get any more ideas.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“Unbelievable, that’s me.”

“I don’t know how you do that,” Blaine said, glancing away from Sebastian’s lively green eyes, his easy humour, the way the moonlight traced along his cheek. “Nothing anyone says bothers you, does it?”

“Not really.” Sebastian shrugged a shoulder. “Why should it? They’re just words.”

“I wish I was like that.”

“Hey.“ Sebastian turned to face him, “I know _this_ \--” he gently rapped one of his knuckles to Blaine’s temple “-- messes with you sometimes, but _this_ \--” he touched his knuckles to Blaine’s chest, over his heart. “It knows who you are, and it doesn’t care. You’ve never let anyone change you, and that’s why you’re one of a kind, Blaine Anderson.”

“Sebastian …”

His hand flattened out, reassuringly solid against Blaine’s chest. His skin felt too thin, too tight, so hot all over, his heart beating up a storm against his ribs as if it sought its twin in the pounding of Sebastian’s wrist. A pounding he could feel because he’d curled his fingers around it, fingertips alive with Sebastian’s hurried pulse, belying the ease which which Sebastian stared down at him. Sebastian’s eyes were shadowed now, moonlight as his back, lashes down, chin tilting. Blaine felt the pull upwards as irresistibly as displaced water did, a _Eureka!_ in the air as his toes met the sand and he used his hold on Sebastian to steady himself, their mouths meeting in a soft press. Blaine relaxed into the kiss, forgot to care, forgot to _be_ anything but the way that Sebastian exhaled through his nose and slid his hand up Blaine’s chest, curling around the nape of his neck, Blaine’s hand dropping to stake claim across Sebastian’s waist, completing a circuit that made Blaine’s back arch and Sebastian nip at his bottom lip. Sebastian, his mouth, the way his tongue curled against Blaine’s teeth, all of it was the beginning and the end of this eternal moment in time, and Blaine was helpless to it. They kissed forever and fell away after moments, and that left them standing there, breath loud in their ears as they stared at each other.

“Wow.”

Blaine was surprised that wasn’t him, but words had politely hid in his throat and now he had to refind them. He settled for nodding, eyes wide.

“That … happened …” Sebastian blinked. “Hang on. I’m being an idiot. I’ve never had a kiss that mattered before.”

Sebastian ducked, kissed him again, pulling Blaine flush along his body as they bowed together, and Blaine’s knees might have been weak, his heart might have been beating too much, because the world seemed to be tipping until he realized it was, stomach swooping up as they fell back, Sebastian pulling away, eyes wide, as they landed on the sand. “Oof!” Blaine grunted, wincing, a flare of pain where he’d landed on a stone digging into his side and Sebastian heavy on top of him, his arm awkwardly twisted underneath Blaine’s head. They stared at each other, startled, and then shared matching incredulous grins.

Sebastian kissed him again, still smiling, and Blaine kissed back.

\--

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: Lana del Rey's _[Carmen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fA4uA2-BQ4)_ , Metric's _[Help I'm Alive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZoK63Bk7pgw)_ , the Mormon Tabernacle organist's rendition of Bach's _[Gigue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TO7ZqmILq0k)_ , and a hint of Taylor Swift's _[Blank Space](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ORhEE9VVg)_ because, as I'm sure you've gathered by now, Sebastian's a big Taytay fan.


	6. maybe this time

“You seem … weirdly cheery.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blaine said, who had been whistling for the past ten minutes as he drove Kelly down the I-515 towards Vegas. “It’s a beautiful day.”

It was. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, the birds were presumably chirping at a volume he couldn’t hear inside a vehicle doing sixty with a radio blasting.

 _You always make me smile_  
_When I'm feeling down_  
_You give me such a vibe_  
_It's totally bonafide …_  
_It's not the way you walk_  
_And it ain't the way you talk_  
_It ain't the job you got_  
_That keeps me satisfied ..._

“Uh-huh,” Cooper said. “You do realize you have a hickey, right?”

Blaine might have killed them all jerking into traffic at his shock, but luckily he’d always been praised as a level-headed driver, and his hands didn’t belie how his stomach dropped.

“Probably a bite from those weird flies back at Salt Lake.”

“You’ve been making out with flies? Gross, Squirt.”

Blaine didn’t dignify that with a response. He couldn’t heckle Cooper in turn, because that would mean acknowledging a relationship he’d chosen to tactically ignore, and Rachel had climbed into his tent last night seeming perfectly herself while Blaine had to hide his red face in a book, so for all he knew, his needling would be aimless.

“You don’t need to hide anything,” Cooper insisted. “I’m your big brother. You can talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

It wasn’t like he and Sebastian had done anything more than make out on the beach for hours. It might as well have been a handshake.

“Fine. You know I can just ask Sebastian, he’ll tell me. We’re _tight_.”

“Go ahead,” Blaine said calmly, though he felt his heart give an anxious jump. As he signaled to get off the interstate, Cooper twisted in the passenger seat and loudly called:

“Hey Sebby!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What did you do last night?”

“Slept?”

“Before bed, Sebby, come on.”

“Jerked off while brushing my teeth in the RV?”

Blaine didn’t know what was worse: his blush, or Cooper’s pointed eyebrow waggle at him.

“Ew! Sebastian!” Rachel threw something, judging by the clatter. “We _use_ that!”

“To masturbate? Great, it’s communal.”

“I hope you sanitized that sink!”

“What do I look like, a maid? It’s probably not the worst thing that’s gone in there. Someone here has bleeding gums or you’re sticking those tampons in too deep, Berry.”

“Blaine, make Sebastian stop being gross,” Rachel called plaintively.

“Sebastian, stop being gross,” Blaine said, and Sebastian chuckled.

“Yessir.” Then, to Rachel, “But seriously. Rinse the sink better.”

“Says the rogue defiler himself!”

“I love that. Officially my new business card title.”

“You would, you defiler.”

“Now that’s just getting repetitive.”

“I’m not going to waste new words on you. You’d enjoy it too much.”

“Is this when you deny me my spanking, too?”

“Hey!” Cooper interrupted what he’d previously been enjoying. “Save that talk for anyone but Rachel, buddy.”

“‘Anyone but Rachel.’ That’s about six billion people. This should take a while.”

“Guys,” Blaine said, loudly, “We’re in Vegas. Admire the Strip. Be awed.”

Sebastian walked up, draping himself over the driver’s seat and ducking to watch as they drove down the Las Vegas Boulevard. From his mom’s stories and the map, he knew the Strip was technically located just south of the city; most the rest of it was just a mass urban sprawl that met a vanishing point like a mirage into the heat waves of the surrounding desert and its low red rock mountains. They were in the Mojave Desert and it showed; Blaine had already had to crank up the A/C, rolling his window shut, and he could almost feel Kelly straining to keep herself cool against the oppressive heat outside. Still, it was beautiful, in a way that was strikingly different yet complimentary to the beauty of the coast and the rest of the northwest, nature having swapped her palette from cool blues and lush greens to pain with dusty oranges and ageless reds. A stark loveliness, that was only diluted, not lost, by the mass of buildings they were driving through.

“It’s better at night,” Sebastian said, voice low. Blaine’s neck warmed.

“You’ve been here before, right?”

“Yeah. I was too young to do anything _really_ fun though.”

“Hopefully we’ll change that this time, then,” Blaine said, voice also low, and Sebastian hummed, pressing himself more solidly against Blaine’s chair.

“Yeah, nothing happening here,” Cooper said. “You two are so cute.”

“Blaine, did you hear something?” Sebastian asked innocently.

“No, nothing at all. Maybe the wind …” Blaine gave a wicked grin.

It wasn’t often a younger sibling got to pull _that_ card.

“Let’s just get to the hotel, you crazy kids …”

\--

They’d booked ahead of time for Vegas, and it had paid off; between Sebastian’s near-inhuman ability to talk his way in anywhere, various travel site deals he’d racked up, and the ol' reliable of a gold credit card, they’d gotten an impressive suite with two masters in a four-star boutique hotel, The Cromwell. They all seemed a little too travel-worn (and still smelling faintly of Great Salt Lake, as it was a peculiar odour you didn’t notice until you were away from it) to be standing in the handsome black-and-gold themed registration area. Check-in was quick, and their suite was gorgeous, done up in blacks and whites, with purple used as an accent, and Blaine sank into the soft couch with a relieved groan, stretching out his legs.

“This is amazing, Sebastian ...” Blaine laced his fingers, stretching out his arms too until he felt a crick pop. He sighed again.

“Their whole shtick is ‘Parisian-inspired.’ I like it.” Sebastian looked around, nodding to himself.

“Yes, it’s really nice,” Rachel said. “Thank you, Sebastian.” She stood up. “I’m going to shower.”

She disappeared into one of the bedrooms, and Cooper watched her go. Blaine glanced up when a knock came at the door, and Sebastian answered, allowing in a bellhop.

“Welcome to The Cromwell,” he said, holding out a tray. “Your complimentary sangrias.”

“Thanks. Just put them down there,” Sebastian said, waving, and then tipped the guy, sending him on his way. “God. It’s nice to have real service again.”

He brought over Blaine’s drink, settling in next to him. “Cheers.” He and Blaine clinked glasses, and Blaine watched, amused and a bit guilty with his amusement, as Cooper had to go get his drink himself.

“I’ll just take Rachel’s hers …” Cooper said, picking up the fourth and then vanishing into the bedroom as well. Blaine leaned against Sebastian, sipping the (delicious) drink and looking out over the (amazing) room. Fast up on half a month on the road, Blaine luxuriated in this, even if he hadn’t exactly been roughing it before now. Still, the suite felt almost too big after alternatively camping, being in an RV, or in mid-sized rooms at family hotels for the past while.

“I could get used to this,” Blaine murmured, and tilted to kiss Sebastian’s jaw, because he could.

“I could get used to _that_ ,” Sebastian replied, turning and sliding a hand along Blaine’s jaw to kiss him properly. They made out lazily between sips of their drink, and some distant part of Blaine’s mind knew they should Talk at some point, because he generally liked relationship talks that leaned to the positive, but it seemed like too much effort when he’d much rather slide a hand under Sebastian’s shirt and trace along his happy trail.

“Mm." Sebastian pulled away for a moment, then down the rest of his drink in one smooth swallow, his handsome throat working attractively. “Hey, killer. I’m going to shower.”

Well. That was a disappointment, when things were going so well.

Blaine downed his own drink, then asked, “Can I join you?”

Hey. Once you’d taken the first step, it was always easier to fling yourself in head-first.

\--

They kicked the door open to the bedroom, then kicked it shut behind them.

Sebastian hands were almost frantic as they tugged and unzipped and yanked on buttons, and Blaine didn’t have much more patience, swearing into Sebastian’s shoulder when his pants zipper got stuck. They kissed where they could, laughing when they stumbled over the bed, stripping off clothes and leaving a gingerbread trail behind them to the bathroom, ending in Blaine’s spotted bowtie draped over the sink. Blaine leaned against it, feeling the rasp of fabric against his lower back and grasping the cool marble edge of the counter in his too-warm hands as he drank in the sight of Sebastian, long and lean and god, how did his tan go all the way down like that? It was unfair.

“My eyes are up here,” Sebastian said teasingly, stepping forward and brushing a hand along Blaine’s flexing arm. Blaine glanced up, breath in his throat.

He had a strange conflict, between modesty about his body and unknowledge, and he’d never had a problem being naked in front of the guys he’d slept with because it had always been about them; he was a giver, through and through. Sebastian didn’t let him hide in that though, his eyes hungry as he took Blaine in, a floodlight of heat that made Blaine look away.

Sebastian braced himself against the counter and kissed him again, slower, softer, his body a gentle lean of constrained energy and heat against Blaine’s, solid and reassuring without being overbearing. He pulled away, kissing Blaine’s jaw, cheek; murmured, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Blaine laughed breathlessly against Sebastian’s cheek, feeling the catch of his faint stubble. “No one’s ever asked me that before. We’ve always just … done it.”

Sebastian pulled back so they could look at each other. “That’s not a yes or no.”

“Yes,” Blaine said, and it seemed to hit him as he said it, a lightning strike along his spine. “Yes, absolutely, definitely.”

“My favourite words.”

Sebastian kissed him, wet and open-mouthed, and Blaine pulled him closer, closer than the hard counter would allow, and then they somehow ended up on the floor, sinking to it as they took each other apart with bold new touches. Sebastian was spread out on the cool tile, Blaine on top, legs tangled like a shipwreck as they began to move together like the ocean, waves in a storm, each drag between their bodies like the current pulling with needy hands. Blaine scrambled for leverage, his fingers finding nothing on the smooth floor, back arching and hips rolling, sliding, sliding. He looked down to see Sebastian staring up at him with black-blown green eyes, unerring focus, an awe, his hands curling into fists behind Blaine’s back (he could feel the drag of his knuckles against the knobs of his spine, pulling heat to the surface like something shy coaxed out) and his gaze never wavering, even when Blaine was navigating a hand between their bodies, fisting their cocks in a tight hot drip; not even when he came, with a stuttered sound and a gasp, pink mouth falling open, undone again -- again -- with every new stroke of Blaine's hand.

Blaine looked away then, head falling and forehead pressed to Sebastian’s shoulder as he worked them both through it, until it hurt, a rough burn that made his toes curl.

Afterwards, Blaine collapsed on top of Sebastian, sticking together and the black tile under his hand revealing damp palm prints, everything suddenly quiet even though he hadn’t processed the noise before, how the bathroom must have shook with their falling apart. Sebastian laughed, breaking the silence.

When Blaine made a questioning noise, Sebastian ran a hand along his spine, swirling a playful finger in a slow circle against his lower back. Blaine shivered.

“I just had all these plans. This was never how I imagined it.”

Blaine lifted his head, but Sebastian’s eyes were shut, a silly smile on his face. “But it was good?”

“Amazing.” Sebastian gave another disbelieving laugh. “I couldn’t have planned it better.”

Blaine smiled, lay his head back down, and privately agreed.

\--

They ate dinner in the hotel restaurant, and discussed the inevitable fact that only one of them was of legal age to gamble, so they’d be putting a heck of a lot of faith in Cooper unless they felt like testing the strength of their fake IDs.

“Preferably no alcohol, definitely no big prizes, and we should be fine,” Sebastian said. “So no working on the slots.”

Rachel sighed in great disappointment. Blaine patted her arm in sympathy.

Then they decided to wander the Strip as night began to fall and the endless array of lights and signs came to life, moving and blinking and waving and inviting, brightly uncompromising against the dark of the night, advertising anything and everything you could possibly want when it came to thrills. It was like watching a beast come to life, a multitude of eyes and glowing, glittering scales. Blaine was sure you were supposed to just relax and enjoy the sights and atmosphere, but he was also sure when your mom had raised you on bedtime stories like _“And then she took a knife out and stole all the coke! The nerve!”_ you had to see the seedy underbelly of Vegas right away. It was … intimidating. Not the way L.A. was intimidating, like you had to prove yourself or get lost, or New York, which he’d never found intimidating at all but he knew imposed on people like a stately queen who knew exactly how much she was worth. Vegas though, Vegas was a smiling trickster, a gift in one hand and a knife in the other.

It put his nerves on edge, but the temptation to see how far you could push also tugged at him, and he saw exactly how people could get lost here.

“Let’s check out the Bellagio,” Cooper said, before Blaine could. “I bet Blainey’s been dying to see it.”

“Let me guess,” Sebastian said, glancing down in amusement at Blaine tucked securely under his arm, neither of them content to pull away after the events of the afternoon. “Clooney in _Ocean’s Eleven_ _?_ ”

“One of his best roles,” Blaine said seriously. He was already using his arm around Sebastian’s waist to steer him towards the large fountain-lake before the Bellagio.

“I’ve always been more of a Brad Pitt girl,” Rachel said. “He was so cute in that.”

“I’d take them both,” Sebastian said. The crowds streaming in and out of the Bellagio was like a wound gushing blood, most dressed to the nines, many not; Blaine had dressed up, and he still felt a little out of place. It was like letting June take him somewhere.

(June had been very disappointed in his retreat. After multiple fights, had given him a copy of _The Art of Living Single_ with an annotation that read, _Call when you’re ready to get serious_.)

The Bellagio was impressive, tall and lit up like the fourth of the July, the fountains out front bright and dancing. They got a picture in front of it before continuing, among many with the same idea. It was an odd mix of tourists and residents who walked the streets, the latter with that weariness all big city people got after a while. Laughter and music still filled the air as they went around the fountain and entered the lobby, coming in to an impressive, vast golden space with a rainbow of sculptured lights in shape of lily pads hanging from the ceiling. Rachel broke away from Cooper to twirl under it, her short red dress bright against the gold of the room, then held her arms out to them.

“I feel lucky!” she declared jubilantly. “Let’s do this.”

“Rachel,” Sebastian called. “Remember. No slots.”

“They just look so fun …” Rachel said, shoulders dropping.

“You can play with me,” Cooper assured her, and she brightened again, sliding up to his side and linking arms. The four of them then entered the casino floor, and Blaine remembered the advice from _Ocean’s Eleven_ : built like a maze. Everything in casinos was designed to keep people in, and it seemed they’d barely taken ten steps before he was disoriented. He bounced a little.

“So where to first?”

“Slots!” Rachel.

“Yeah, slots.” Cooper.

“Blackjack.” Sebastian.

Blaine saw the perfect opportunity for some alone time. “Me and Sebastian can go watch the blackjack tables, and Cooper, you take Rachel to go play some slots.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cooper said. “Catch ya later, baby bro.”

Cooper and Rachel sailed off, looking like a movie star couple, and Sebastian and Blaine set off as well, wandering and stopping to look in on the occasional game, until they found the blackjack. They joined a crowd of curious onlookers, and it wasn’t Blaine’s game (he’d been raised on poker and rummy) it was nice to just listen as Sebastian offered commentary and explanation in turn, his voice a low and intimate rumble that Blaine could feel where they were pressed together.

After a while, Sebastian got bored, and he and Blaine set back across the floor. They stopped an any table of interest, doing a wide circuit of the floor. They stopped at a craps table, and Blaine craned his neck, trying to get a better look. As someone stepped away, Sebastian gently pushed him forward, and Blaine slid neatly to the front, next to a vivacious older woman in a tight dress who was getting ready to roll, before holding the dice out. “Maurice, dear --” she stopped when she saw Blaine. “Kid, you’re --” she got an intrigued look in her eyes as Blaine smiled automatically back, head tilting. “Here, blow on these.”

Blaine did so, and she rolled. It must have been good, because the assembled crowd seemed to move with appreciative energy, and she lit up. “Don’t move,” she told him, and that was how Blaine got roped into being the personal luck distributor of Mindy, 57, of Wyoming, who owned a horse farm and reminded him of an extremely nice June. He couldn’t follow the game at all by its terms or the raking of dice and who threw when and things like “Same dice!” were occasionally shouted; he just stood there and cheered when Mindy seemed happy and occasionally glanced over his shoulder to see Sebastian watching with a small smile, which turned teasing when he caught Blaine’s gaze.

“One more and we’ve got it,” Mindy told him, and held out the dice. He blew, she threw, and the crowd erupted raucously the moment the dice rolled to a stop. She jumped up and down and dragged him into a tight hug, shaking him. “Oh, you’re a peach, honey!”

“Congratulations!” Blaine said, patting her back until she let him go. “Um. What happened?”

“Mama just made herself three thousand dollars!” She grinned widely, as Blaine’s eyebrows went up; everyone around her clapped as the dealer stacked some chips to slide her way. “I’m tapping out now, and it’s all thanks to you!”

“I just blew on them …”

“You’re luckier than rabbit’s foot,” she told him, pinching his cheek. “Come with me, come on …” Once she had her chips, he found herself hand-in-hand with her as she guided him toward what looked to be the chip distribution place. Sebastian followed them, and Blaine shot him a helpless look over his shoulder. He hadn’t just signed up for lifetime servitude, had he?

Sebastian lengthened his strides, coming up to them. “Nice shooting, miss,” he said, and Mindy shot him a smile.

“Why thank you. All thanks to Blaine here.”

“He’s quite something, alright.” Sebastian winked at Blaine.

“Mindy, this is Sebastian,” Blaine said. “We’re travelling together.”

“Ohh, so sweet. I remember being young … rode my horse all the way up into Canada to go live with some relatives for a while, everybody should have a journey like that, don’t you agree?”

“It’s been very illuminating so far,” Blaine said, eyes flicking to Sebastian, who nodded.

“Now here.” Mindy placed her chips on the counter, speaking to the woman behind the glass, “I’m cashing out.”

Blaine watched, curious, as she was handed all this paperwork to sign, handing her ID over to be recorded in the system; no wonder they’d been told to avoid scoring big with a fake. It took a few minutes, during which Blaine and and Mindy talked horses (she was delighted to learn of his background in polo) and Sebastian waited at his side. Then Mindy, bearing a cheque for three grand, proceeded to slip it into her wallet purse before extricating five crisp one hundred dollar bills.

“Here, darling, here.” She handed them to him, and he accepted the money, eyes wide.

“What? No, this is too much, I can’t --”

“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t have won without you. I treat my luck right, you hear me?”

“I …”

“Take the money and thank the nice lady, Blaine,” Sebastian said, nudging him. “Otherwise I’m afraid she might get violent.”

“Oh you know it, sugar,” Mindy tipped them a big wink. “And do me a favour. If your travels takes you out by way of my ranch, then drop on in, I’ll put you up.” There was a business card in the stack of bills, with an address. Blaine nodded, still a little stunned.

“Thank you so much, Mindy.”

“It’s nothing. Now this old lady needs to go get some sleep. You youngings go and explore.”

With a final effusive thanks, Blaine tucked the money and card away into his wallet and pressed himself to Sebastian’s side, and they set off on a walk again.

“So. Luckier than rabbit’s foot?” Sebastian asked.

“I can’t believe that!” Blaine was overcoming the disbelief. Wait until Cooper and Rachel heard about this. “I really was lucky.”

“You were.”

“Huh.” Blaine tugged on the back of Sebastian’s button down. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“You better, Mr. High Roller …”

They settled into the bar that sat right in the middle of the casino, providing a great view of the Bellagio floor. Just like everything else in the hotel it was beautiful, and they texted Cooper and Rachel their location before ordering some Seven and Sevens (their fakes passing muster) that they sipped while watching the the drama out on the floor. Blaine shared some of his mom’s stories, one about Siegfried, Roy, and their tiger in need of babysitting leaving him near tears from laughter. “She sounds wild,” he said, face red, and Blaine had to laugh his agreement. Of course, his mom might have been wild, but he bet she’d never had a guy quite like this at her elbow. The celebrities, the millionaires, the mobsters -- nothing could ever be as unique as Sebastian Smythe, still chuckling into his drink because Blaine always earned his most genuine smiles.

Blaine bit his lip, pressed their knees together, and might have pulled them back to the hotel if Rachel didn’t choose that moment to join them, looking pleased.

“Win big?” Blaine asked.

“No.” She settled down in a chair, fanning herself with her clutch. “Slots is hard! But Cooper let me sneakily pull the lever, it was fun.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. He saw somebody he recognized, told me to meet you guys.”

“Weird.”

They chatted (Rachel gasping in jealousy when she heard of Blaine’s adventure) and drank until Cooper reappeared, frowning to himself. When Blaine raised an eyebrow and asked, “You aren’t bankrupt, are you?” Cooper didn’t seem to hear him, settling into a chair and flagging the waitress down.

“Whiskey,” he said, eyes shutting.

Blaine shared a concerned look with Rachel, who tentatively bit her lip and placed a hand on his arm. Cooper let it rest for a second, arm tense, then shook it off, reaching for his whiskey which he settled in to sip with a brooding glower. Rachel looked away, gaze downcast, and now Blaine shared a concerned look with Sebastian.

“Hey, Rachel,” Blaine said, getting up. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Okay.” Rachel stood up as well, smoothing out her dress and looking between Cooper and Sebastian. “Are you two going to ..?”

“Cooper and me are going to finish drinking then hit up the Flamingo,” Sebastian said easily. “I hear they’re less strict on IDs there. We’re gonna duke it out over poker.”

Cooper looked up. “What?”

“Mano a mano, trust fund a trust fund,” Sebastian returned. “Run along you two, we’ll meet up with you later. We can check out that club attached to our hotel.”

“Sure.” Blaine squeezed Sebastian’s shoulder goodbye, and then took Rachel by the hand guiding her out of the bar, out of the casino, out of the Bellagio. The night seemed even hotter than it had going inside, but maybe that was just Blaine missing the A/C. He immediately stripped off his suit jacket, folding it neatly over his arm before taking Rachel’s hand again. She was quiet, clinging to him with an uncharacteristically limp grip. He let her think, setting their hands to a gentle swing as they wandered down the strip and listened to the energetic sounds of a night in Vegas, like being inside the world’s largest amusement park (there was even a large glowing neon ferris wheel near their hotel. They had bought tickets for the next night.)

They were navigating around a bachelor party stumbling out of a strip club when Rachel softly said, “I have to tell you something, Blaine.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I should have said something earlier, but I got very swept up in the magic of a summer romance, I’m afraid.” Rachel took a deep breath. “Cooper and I are … together.”

“I know,” Blaine said gently.

Hopefully that hid is instinctual wince.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

Maybe not. Blaine sighed. “He’s my brother. You’re my friend. It’s kind of weird, to me. But I want you to be happy, Rachel.”

“And I am,” Rachel said. “But I guess I’ve been afraid of how you might react.”

“I’d never be upset with you --”

“My brain says that, but …” Rachel lifted their hands up, examining Blaine’s knuckles, stretching out her fingers so his hand spread as well. “You’ve known me for a long time.”

“I have.”

“And you know what I’ve …” she dropped their hands, clinging tightly now. “Sometimes I still feel like I’m being unfaithful.”

Oh. Blaine wasn’t sure what to say to that, offering a quiet, “He’d want you to be happy, Rachel. It’s all he ever wanted.”

“I know.” Her voice was surprisingly even. “But he’ll always be my first love.”

“He helped shape your heart.”

“Exactly,” Rachel said. “I thought, for a long time, that I wouldn’t be ready to try and give my body or heart to anyone else again.”

Blaine encouraged her on with a squeeze of their joined hands.

“But I’m twenty years old and I have my whole life ahead of me. And I think I’m ready to trust myself to someone again.”

“I’m glad Rachel. I want you to have love and good things.”

“I want those things too.” Rachel bit her lip. “I want to feel wanted.”

Blaine couldn’t avoid where this was leading. 

“So. Cooper.”

“Yes. Cooper.”

“Well … I know he wants you.”

Rachel flashed a quick smile at that, then asked:

“Do you think I can trust him?”

Blaine looked away at that.

Trust was hard to measure objectively, and he’d seen what just happened in the bar. It could have been nothing, it could be everything. From a purely subjective position Blaine would never forget not being good enough, of being an extraneous detail rather than a necessity, of shouts like _We’re not even really brothers_ and waking up in a hospital bed and his brother never being there, more than once. His brother was self-absorbed and it made him callous.

But Blaine’s story was of someone whose childhood hero had disappointed him. That wasn’t what Rachel was dealing with, and judged by his most recent actions Cooper was … trying.

“I think …” Blaine hesitated. “He’s complicated. You might need a megaphone to get through to him, sometimes, but he’s been on attentive kick lately and he promised me he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. I can’t tell you anything, except ... he might surprise you.”

Rachel huffed. “I was hoping for a yes or no.”

“I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask about that,” Blaine replied ruefully. “But if nothing else, if things _do_ go badly, I can promise you I have full brotherly rights to kick the crap out of him then drag him back to Ohio so our mom can guilt him into tears.”

“My white knight on standby?”

“For an eternity, my lady.”

She laughed, stopping and twirling so she could hug him, placing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“It’s nothing. I’m always happy to hit Cooper.”

“Blaine!”

“What? It’s true.”

They started walking again, and Rachel was reenergized, a little bounce to her step.

“You know, you talk like that, but I know you love him.”

“I do. Even when he is annoying me.”

Rachel opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then changed her mind, instead looking around and getting a certain wicked glint in her eyes, saying, “So as long as we’re away from our boys, do you think we could have some fun?”

Our boys?

Blaine followed her gaze. She was staring at an advertisement for a male strip club called Hunk Mansion, apparently only a few blocks from where they were. Blaine figured if Sebastian went to a strip club without Blaine he’d be a bit offended, so he shook his head. “You’ve seen Magic Mike too many times.”

She gave a coquettish flutter of her lashes, then said, “Actually, ever since Sam said it was a startlingly realistic look into the depressing truths of life as a male stripper, I’ve been unable to rewatch it.”

“He does make you think about it ...”

“I suppose if we’re in Vegas though, _Showgirls_ would be a more apt comparison …”

“That movie scared me.” Blaine decided to take them across the street, walking back the way they’d came, to avoid the temptation of any hunks and their hunkier mansion.

“What? Why?”

“My mom was a showgirl,” Blaine admitted. “When she lived here.”

“ _Really?_ ”

Blaine gestured around, jacket waving, at the lights of the strip around them. “Ages ago. And I watched it and thought, _this could have happened to my mom_. She has some crazy cautionary tales, that’s for sure.”

“Wow.” Rachel’s eyes were wide. “My dads never did anything exciting like that.”

“Exciting’s not the word I’d use.”

“Still, it shows how showmanship and performing are in your blood! Do you think you could ever re-enact one of her routines?”

That set them off on an impromptu walking choreography lesson, and only in Vegas could you be going down the street and trying to remember second-hand thirty-year-old showgirl moves and not have anyone bat an eyelash. Rachel’s bad mood had completely evaporated, giggling and mugging through various dramatic gestures, and Blaine decided it was time to reunite with Cooper and Sebastian. Hopefully, Cooper was also less dour, and Blaine wouldn’t have to do anything but avert his gaze from any too-familiar interactions between Cooper and Rachel. He really didn’t feel like actually kicking his brother’s ass, no matter what he said.

Without any other recourse, Blaine was forced to actually kind of root for the two of them.

\--

Blaine didn’t remember much of the rest of the night.

Sebastian had bought him a new bowtie, a sort of kitschy-cute one in white with a wild explosion of playing cards serving as the pattern, and he slipped that on. He wasn’t sure what happened to his other bowtie, one of the Portland ones, after that, because the night got kind of … crazy.

The club at their hotel was mind-blowing, lit up in every possible way, strobes and disco and LED screens everything else cutting crazy patterns through the air; the stage had dancers and the DJ was doing his best to throw everything hip hop and EDM at them. If you got too hot on the dance floor you could stumble outside and get some even hotter fresh air, but the heat of Sin City was something Blaine was getting used to. Most of the night, he remembered like that; hot, hot, and being so incredibly drunk that everything else came in flashes like the lights which turned the club into a kaleidoscope of action and energy.

He remembered laughing with Rachel, champagne spilling down their fingers.

He remembered dancing by himself, lost in the crowd, and stepping on someone’s foot and apologizing until everyone had new drinks.

He remembered heading out and finding Cooper, shirtless, lounging by the rooftop pool with Rachel in his lap, splashing each other with water.

He remembered dancing with Sebastian, his arms over Sebastian’s shoulders and Sebastian’s hands on his waist, not really grinding but teasing of it, promises.

Blaine might have remembered more of the evening, but Sebastian befriended a promoter and they got more and more drinks on the house and then ended up heading into the basement of the hotel for the after-hours party, where the pounding music and pounding lights and the eventual pounding his head only continued until the early hours, ending up so exhausted-energized in that strange place between sleep deprivation and soaked in alcohol that left you ready to do anything but sleep, with no energy to do it, sipping drinks in a circle with a group of ten they’d somehow merged into, names and faces in a blur in his memory.

They didn’t get back to their rooms (with heavy support and aid of a hotel worker) until nearly six am, at which point Blaine took one obligatory sip of water then passed out in their bed, his head spinning and ears ringing as Sebastian shut the curtains against dawn and joined him, their dark little cosy cavern against the world.

\--

“I’m dead,” Blaine groaned, rolling over and feeling his stomach turn. Thank god he had zero gag reflex: literally the most useful thing in his life, and he’d never been prone to vomiting. He might have otherwise. He had never drank that much before in his entire life. It was very possible he had drank more than he ever had, altogether, before that night.

He might have broken all records of drinking known to man as well, for all he knew.

“Cutest corpse I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian said, sleepily, his eyes still closed.

“Tell me you’re not dead.”

“I’m close.” Sebastian cracked a reluctant eyelid. “I shouldn’t have had that last polar bear.”

“I don’t even remember what I drank last. I don’t remember …” Blaine searched. “Anything, really.”

“You just danced. On a table. And pledged your body to a male model if you were ever single again, told everyone who could listen for about a half hour straight about your lack of gag reflex, and then you got really mopey and cried into your cups about Hummel, like literal tears, and didn’t cheer up until Cooper and you got into a competition of who could do the best Zoolander model face and then you nearly punched my head off when I snuck up on you.”

Blaine had been sinking deeper into shame as Sebastian spoke, but the last one made him evaluate Sebastian for injury then poke his chest. “Hey. I warned you on that last one.”

“I know. But you’re so hot from behind. I couldn’t resist.”

Blaine shook his head, then stilled, regretting that one immediately. He tried licking his lips, finding them and his whole mouth disgustingly dry, and with that filmy feeling that said he hadn’t brushed his teeth.

“I’m going to go clean up …” he sniffed his shirt. It smelled like a whole bottle service had been dumped on it. Pulling a face, he slowly levered himself up.

“Kay.” Sebastian yawned. “I’m going to sleep more. Don’t drown.”

Blaine didn’t, but he did sit on the floor of the shower until he felt ready to stand up again, which took about an hour. He felt vaguely bad about wasting water in a desert, but well, the desert hadn’t apparently gotten sticky club floor gunk in its arm hair last night. Once he was clean, his mouth tasting of mint and hair regelled, dressed for the day, he went to check on Cooper and Rachel. They were both passed out still, Rachel flat on her front and Cooper kind of half-spooning her, snoring. Reassured that neither had died of alcohol poisoning, Blaine shut the door and went to order room service.

He whiled away the afternoon rehydrating, eating, and watching cooking shows, getting deeply invested into a Chopped marathon to the point that he didn’t even notice when Cooper had come out of hibernation to join him, a towel still around his neck to catch drips off his wet hair.

“Fun night, huh,” Cooper said. Blaine grunted in response, but this didn’t put Cooper off, who was apparently feeling chatty. “You know, if someone told me a year ago I’d end up clubbing all night with you, I wouldn’t have believed them.”

“Because I was only eighteen and we never talked?”

“Because you’re a total square! You have a real way of bringing people down, Blainey.”

“I have a -- you just called me a square!”

“That’s just a fact. You wear sweatervests, kid.”

“This look is in,” Blaine said, “And it’s more original than the same six black leather jackets over and over again.”

“Leather jackets are cool.”

“They went out with Fonzie.”

Cooper made a disapproving clicking sound with his tongue. “Fonzie never went out.”

“Yeah, right.” Blaine realized then, as long as he had his brother to himself, he could take a chance to snoop. “Coop, what happened last night?”

“One heck of a good party.”

“No, I mean, the Bellagio. You got into a weird mood.”

“That? It was nothing.” His brother wasn’t a very good liar, unsurprisingly.

“Are you sure? Because Rachel said you saw someone you recognized.”

“Yeah, that was nothing. Old friend.” Cooper waved a hand.

“Coop, if there’s something wrong, I can help --”

“Nothing’s wrong. Now, here, are you gonna watch them make dessert with pork rinds and avocado or not?

Blaine frowned, but turned back to the TV, upping the volume. Cooper would talk in his own time.

\--

That evening they went out for dinner, trying a dine-in-the-dark establishment that was actually a lot of fun, and not just because Sebastian had taken the opportunity to shamelessly grope him until he’d been left hard and fidgeting and waiting for the damn cheque to come, already. Then it was up on the High Roller ferris wheel, a super massive structure which apparently outsized the London Eye (Sebastian confirmed this piece of advertising himself; when Blaine said, “I’d love to visit England,” Sebastian had easily said, “Okay, I’ll take you one day,” and wow, okay, that was a thing) and could seat nearly forty people a pod. This meant, unlike the Portland air tram they had all managed to get into the same one, and Blaine refused to let Sebastian distract him this time, pressing himself against the glass and watching as all of Vegas, the blazing line of the strip, the lower lights of the rest of the city, the way the light of the moon gilded the distant long low mountains and barren desert views.

After that, they checked out the rest of the big casinos they’d missed, getting a chance to check out the MGM Grand, the Flamingo (where Cooper and Blaine got a picture together, mimicking the exact pose of their mother from over thirty years ago, arms spread wide like they were draped in large white feathers and crystals), Caesar's, the Mirage, an endless flurry of beautiful buildings and clanging slot machines and uproarious craps tables and intense card games. Weaving in and out of the maze-like buildings, checking out pools and surprise concerts, dancing girls and an Elvis impersonator, lush botanical gardens and stone zen ones, a bride-to-be who asked Cooper to strip the garter off her thigh -- and when he’d said “I’m with her,” much to Rachel’s obvious, but quiet delight, the bride had shrugged and said “Both of you, then,” which meant Blaine now had a photo of Cooper and Rachel kneeling before a woman with her white skirts all up around her thighs, which Rachel told him he _absolutely_ could never share with Santana or like, her dads. They’d kept the garter as a gift though, and Rachel had slipped it on underneath her dress with a flirty grin, and Cooper couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

They finished off the evening with a late-night snack at a diner, eating pie and letting their waitress tell them stories that may or may not be true about gangsters who had had shootouts in the place when it used to be a bar. Sebastian’s fingers hooked in Blaine’s belt loop, at one point, and stayed, casual and intimate and _there_.

Back at their hotel, they shared one final toast of the complimentary champagne, staring out over the still-busy strip from their hotel window, before turning in for the night.

\--

They left Vegas early next morning, Rachel driving and perfecting the hungover look behind her large dark sunglasses -- he wasn’t quite sure where her fake glasses had gone, though he had a picture on his phone from the Drunken Mystery Night wearing them so he may have lost them, a kind of reverse souvenir for the city to claim from them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rachel had said when he apologized for that. “They were so heavy!”

Cooper had decided he wanted their next stop to be New Orleans, but it was a long way between Nevada and Louisiana. Seeing how slow they had all been to get started, melting under the desert heat and still feeling the effects of two days of living it up in Sin City, Blaine decided on the only obvious solution:

“We need a spa day.”

Cooper perked up, pointing to him. “Yes.”

“So gay,” was Sebastian’s contribution.

“Don’t talk like that,” Blaine said absently, then called to Rachel, “What do you think Rachel? Spa day? We need to detox after everything.”

“Ooh, sounds wonderful!”

“Let’s just make sure we find something along the highway,” Cooper said.

Blaine stared. “What? We can go out of our way, can’t we?”

“Nope. I wanna get to New Orleans pronto. The gumbo’s calling me.” Blaine kept staring, but Cooper ignored him, pulling out his phone and saying, “I’ll find something.”

Blaine joined him in that, and they soon agreed on a place set a little ways off the beaten track but still near the US-93, a spa in the Arizona wilds which boasted top-notch resort treatment. Blaine made the reservations, and lacking Sebastian’s flair for it, found they only had one room for two and two singles available so they’d have to split their party up (of course, renting two rooms when one couple was gay, out here, might not have been the smartest decision, anyways, so he wasn't too bothered.) He agreed, and made all the reservations; they'd be arriving just in time for check in, so their timing was perfect

“Great idea, baby bro.” Cooper ran a considering finger along his nose. “All this sun isn’t healthy for my skin.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, popped his earbuds in, and settled in to read (This one,  _Les Grandes Marées_ by Jacque Poulin.) Blaine wasn’t sure where Sebastian kept getting new books from, since he couldn’t have been carrying them in his backpack, but this was at least the fourth he’d seen.

“Meditation and relaxation.” Blaine shook his head. “And I forgot to ask if they had a yoga class too …”

“Of course they do. What kind of spa resort wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know, let’s hope.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, Cooper pulling out his tablet and Blaine his laptop. Time for another journal entry. He certainly had a lot to talk about, he figured, gaze flicking to Sebastian who looked deeply engrossed it what seemed to be a very boring book. A _lot_.

\--

 _Road to Flagstaff_  
July 22nd 2014  
  
_Sebastian Smythe and I are together. "Dating" is too formal, and probably not accurate, so, together._

_Vegas was really fun, but I don’t know if it’s something you need to do more than once. I feel all oversaturated right now, which may not be the right word, but SAT prep is failing me now as I can’t think of a better one. Too much of the bright lights and neon. Maybe in a few years, as an anniversary thing, a bachelor party if Sam ever settles down . . ._

_I can’t stop staring at my first sentence. Sebastian Smythe and I are together. It seems like I should delete it. Doesn’t feel right. I would have never guessed this a few years ago, when we met. Is this a rebound? I think it's what they call a rebound, plus a summer fling. Why do all those sayings imply you're forcing something away? Is it a subconscious, psychiatric thing? I don't feel like I'm pushing him away . . ._

_Maybe he'd want me too. Wanting me to be happy doesn't mean being happy with him. He's a free spirit._

_It makes me think of that Lady Gaga song, like it could soundtrack what I'm doing right now in the movie about my life, by letting myself like him, even if it isn't the smartest idea._

_“Nowhere, yea we're going nowhere fast / Maybe this time, I’ll be yours & you'll be mine . . .”_

_It's not romantic, but it's also not not romantic. I don't feel . . . cheap. I feel like a free spirit too. It's like Rachel said last night: I want to be wanted. Is that selfish?_

_He's really good in bed. That's not a surprise. But like, really,_  really _good._

_Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about that._

\--

Blaine was contemplating deleting that last bit, even it was, in all honesty, tame compared to the words he could use to describe exactly how mind-blowing sex with Sebastian Smythe was. It was a little unfair, in a God-gives-with-too-many-hands way; he was afraid he’d start feeling jealous.

His musings were interrupted by Cooper, who nudged his foot against Blaine’s. Blaine pulled off his headphones, pausing Gaga in her chanting on _boys, boys boys_.

“What’s up?”

Cooper turned his tablet around. It was a picture of their mother, tugging a shirt down over her bare thighs, posing in front of a clear green-blue sea with boats in the background. “Greetings from the Caribbean,” Cooper said. “Seems she was inspired by our trip.”

“Aww, well. Looks like she’s having fun.”

“She always has fun.” Cooper turned his tablet around, reading the rest of what sounded like an email. “My beautiful boys, I loved that picture! I hope you had fun in Vegas. I am on a cruise. Very last minute, just got here, forgot to tell you. Wifi is terrible, we have to pay for everything with these little cards, but the drinks are flowing! About to set sail across the ocean blue. Hugs and kisses!!! Love you forever, mama. XOXO.”

“That your mom?” Sebastian asked, pulling an earbud out. Cooper showed the picture, and he grinned. “Hot mama.”

“We’ll introduce you, some day,” Cooper said, turning his tablet back around. “You’ll like her.”

 _We’ll introduce you, some day_. What was Cooper thinking? Kurt hadn’t even met Blaine’s mom until after they’d been dating for almost four months, and that was only because she’d come home early when they’d been at Blaine’s, making out on the couch. Meeting the parents was a big first step, which implied further steps, which implied --

“Sounds fun. I want to see her tiger scar.”

“Blainey told you that one, huh? How about her and Kid Rock’s sex tape …”

Blaine watched Cooper and Sebastian chat easily about his mom, and felt so odd he had to hide behind his headphones once again.

\--

The spa was beautiful, rustic cabins and a large main building, connected by open-air walkways. The whole place radiated serenity and oneness with nature, as the gardens flourished and the Arizona landscape bore its stark half-desert, half-grassland beauty all around them, a kind of soft isolation set off by the large mountains in the distance, like a more tamed cousin to the wilds of Montana.

Sebastian and Blaine gracefully accepted the single rooms while Cooper and Rachel took the shared one, but Blaine could tell by the look in Sebastian’s eyes he wouldn’t be sleeping alone either way.

Blaine gladly took to the relaxation and detoxing opportunities of the spa. Smoothies and facials and and massages and saunas and horseback riding and yes, even a sunset yoga session where they practised out on the smooth terrace, watching the sun descend behind the mountain.

It was all very centering, a way to resettle himself and remember he wasn’t a party animal at heart, but maybe the best part was watching Sebastian. Cooper and Rachel, of course, were both old hats at being pampered and joined Blaine in his uncomplicated enjoyment, but Sebastian stepped around the spa like a cat near water. While it was funny to watch, above all else Blaine wanted Sebastian to enjoy himself and see that carefree smile that lit up Sebastian's face _just so_ , and so he'd tried to get him along with everything he’d done and well --

Sebastian kept ordering the smoothies. (“It’s kind of like the crap we have to drink on season.”)

Sebastian, post-facial, kept touching his face. (“It’s never been this smooth. What the hell was in that mud? And no, I refuse to call that a facial, it wasn’t half as fun as a real one--”)

Sebastian, boneless after his massage, letting Blaine feed him grapes. (“Nothing beats a good masseuse. That doesn’t mean I needed one here. _I_ could give you a hell of a private massage, you know, and I’d have the decency to throw in a happy ending.”)

Sebastian who just wholly enjoyed horseback riding, even if he was new to it. (“If I knew being on a horse did this to your ass, I would have taken us riding way earlier,” he’d said to Blaine.

“Why do you think I kept with riding?” Blaine had volleyed back. “My instructor had _excellent_ form,” and Sebastian had grinned all the way back around the lazy loop of the trail.)

Sebastian was, whether or not he’d ever admit it -- and he likely wouldn’t -- actually enjoying himself, which made Blaine happier in turn. He felt quite zen when they got to the point where they were just sitting out on the balcony in the hot tub, watching a shower of shooting stars that was lighting up the Arizona sky, a beautiful array of stars unhampered by the moon on its way out. He cuddled up further against Sebastian, appreciating his solid body in contrast with the jets tickling his feet.

“I’m glad we stopped that day,” Blaine said quietly. A comet, utterly massive, burned across the sky and left a long trail that took ages to fade, and he let out a quiet noise of awe.

Sebastian’s arm tightened around his shoulders. “I’m glad you stopped too.”

They stayed out there a long time, watching the stars fall.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: Sonique's _[It Feels So Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwIbXJSwIMk)_ , and the Gaga song Blaine references is the titular song of the fic, _[Summerboy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PxVEmiYdVJg)_ \-- there's also a brief bit of her _[Boys Boys Boys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qTw1kkFvlU)_ too.
> 
> Pam in the Caribbean from [THIS PICTURE](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CJAoQ6ZW8AAfKEy.jpg) of the lovely Gina Gershon from her Twitter. Blaine's mom being a showgirl is, of course, a reference to Gina's role in _Showgirls_ (don't think too hard about the movie and character existing, lol, if Glee can reference Goop then create Holly Holliday I can do this!) so here's [MAMA ANDERSON](https://lovelace-media.imgix.net/uploads/518/65853db0-f73d-0132-f141-0ed54733f8f5.png) back in the day.
> 
> The playing card bowtie Seb gets Blaine is [HERE](http://cardjazz.com/index.html/Bow_self-tie-card-.jpg). Mindy, 57, of Wyoming has a very Brooke Shields thing going on in my head.


	7. no one remembers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some fisticuffs this chapter, not in an attack/targeted violence way, just tempers flaring.

Blaine wanted to extend their stay at the resort, but Cooper put his foot down -- he was all fired up about New Orleans, and as ever when his brother got going, it was hard to resist his avalanche will. The only allowance he’d made was that as long as they were in Arizona, there was no way they’d be missing the Grand Canyon.

It was only an hour away so they got there before noon, admiring the desert along the way. “I came here with my dads once,” Rachel said, standing on the bench and peering out at the views. “It’s been years though. I don’t really remember it.” Once they got to the gate they got their passes for the park, and drove until they got to a visitor’s centre. From there they parked Kelly and, with water bottles in hand and sunscreen applied, they took to the canyon and the the south rim trail, roughly hewn and stair-like into the rock and dirt of the canyon.

Their first real look at the canyon, he had to stop and stare.

It was incredible, like a giant hand had dug its fingers in and curled, pulling up peels of earth and leaving staggered depths that led on and on. Even in the bright midday light it had its depths and shadows, cooler touches which were flushed out by greens and browns and led up into the sandy yellows and reds that made up the rest of the stone, history and art in its layers. The Colorado River was a distant blue-grey twinkle set into the earth, and they walked parallel to it as they toured the edge of the canyon. It actually looked very tempting, under the heat of the sun; Blaine had had to stop and wipe his forehead more than once, and he was pretty sure he was catching gel along with the sweat as it dripped.

He readjusted his sunglasses, and thought mournfully of his hat back in the RV, but at least was happy that he didn’t burn easily -- even with their sunscreen, Sebastian and Cooper were starting to look a little pink. He liked getting to see them as he hadn't before; he dragged them all into a selfie with the canyon in the background where they all looked appropriately sweaty and bedraggled.

“Don’t ever post that,” Rachel begged, tugging on her wig. “Oh, this stupid thing is so _hot_.” Then, with a final frustrated sound, she whipped off her hat and then her wig, stuffing it into the net bag with their water bottles before resettling her hat. “That’s better.”

“Aw, I wanted to wear it,” Sebastian teased.

“I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Smythe,” she threatened.

They bickered pleasantly back and forth as their group walked on. They were nearly at a large observation point that spread out over the drop of the valley, which they wanted to see before turning back. Blaine nudged Cooper. “You and mom came here before, right?”

“Yeah. When I was like, six, when we were visiting L.A.”

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder. “Are you the only one who’s never been here before, Blaine?”

“You’ve been?”

“I _was_ travelling before I met you guys.” Sebastian nodded across the way of the canyon. “I did the north rim though, so it’s some variety.”

Blaine nodded, considering that as they came to the observation point. He’d kind of forgotten that Sebastian hadn’t just been with them in L.A. and hopped in Kelly from the start; he’d been hitchhiking, with a worn bag, so he must have seen plenty of things already. Had they retread any ground? They weren’t being dull, were they? Blaine watched him for a hint of boredom -- well, not the, I’m very cool and know it boredom, but something deeper -- but Sebastian was full of amusement as he directed Blaine up against the railing of the deck for a picture.

“Make this your new Facebook profile pic. It’s tourist tradition.”

Blaine hadn’t actually posted anything online yet, though he’d kept everything he'd taken well-curated. It was just a very … public gesture.

“Get my good side,” Blaine called back, gripping the hot railing and leaning back.

“Baby, you don’t have a bad side.” Sebastian took a few pictures with his phone, then waved Blaine over to look. Blaine, grinning, took a peek. Very nice. He looked very small against the expanse of the canyon, but his green shirt really popped.

“My personal photographer continues to do good work,” Blaine said, looking around before pressing a quick kiss to Sebastian’s shoulder.

“It’s what I’m paid for,” Sebastian replied, tucking his phone away and guiding Blaine over to the edge of the deck. They looked out, over the canyon in all its majesty and depth, and Blaine felt it would be easy to speak here, easy for anything you didn’t want to hear to be left behind to this tear in the earth.

“Sebastian …” he looked over. “You’re not bored, are you? If we’re going places you’ve been before?”

“There hasn’t been _that_ much overlap,” Sebastian said, raising an eyebrow. “I came down from Colorado.”

“Oh. That’s good, then.”

“But even if I’d been to every place before, I wouldn’t be bored, because none of those places had you there before.”

Blaine stared up at Sebastian, breath catching in his throat, and smiled carefully.

“I’m glad. I want you to have fun.”

“I am.” Sebastian tugged on his shirt, pulling it away from sweaty skin and revealing his stomach and collarbone in flashes. “I’d have more fun if we got somewhere cooler, but hey. Can’t have everything in life.”

“And here I thought you liked it hot,” Blaine murmured, then laughed at the disgruntled-turned on expression that Sebastian sent him, which made him look very cross and admittedly quite sexy.

“Ugh. Don’t, a boner in this heat might kill me.”

“Seriously,” Blaine said, still laughing, “Isn’t it better than being cold?”

“I don’t like being too cold. I don’t like being too hot. Nature gave us middle ground for a reason.”

“You mean mankind gave us climate control for a reason.”

“Exactly.” Sebastian looked over, then snorted. “Check out Jack and Rose over there.”

Blaine leaned over, peering around Sebastian where twenty feet away, Cooper and Rachel were doing the _Titanic_ ship bow scene, arms spread and nestled together, a hapless tourist taking a photo for them.

“Aww.”

“Somebody should push them.”

“Don’t be grouchy.”

“I’m always grouchy.” Sebastian flapped his shirt again. “Are we done? Can we get back to air conditioning?”

“Just a few more pictures …”

Sebastian groaned, and Blaine left him to his moping, getting in some rather nice shots of where the shadow and light met in the walls of the canyon, the black of his Nikon camera burning hotly in his hands as he found the perfect spot in the light metre. Finally, Cooper was the one to actually pull him away, saying, “It’s time to go, Ansel Adams,” and they did the slow march back to the visitor’s centre and their RV. Once inside Kelly they cranked the A/C then just collapsed, waiting for the air to circulate and to feel halfway human again.

“Are you sure we can’t go back to the spa,” Blaine asked, thinking of the nice, cool, indoor pool they had.

“New Orleans,” Cooper groaned back, and seeing his position was threatened he pulled himself into the driver’s seat and took off. Rachel, wig still missing and her frazzled hair curling out of its bun, climbed the loft and collapsed on top of the duvet, only stirring to ask Blaine to bring her a glass of orange juice. Blaine did, then made his own for him and Sebastian, who he then challenged for a furious game of Gin Rummy, their cards occasionally sliding off the table when Cooper got too overeager about his lane changes.

A few hours later they stopped for gas, officially in New Mexico. Blaine took over the driving and took in the change in geography and architecture as they made their way deeper into the state. It was like finding a strange new world. Nevada and Arizona might have had their deserts, but in a way that bore the marks of their neighbouring states; something recognizable, especially in the trees and mountains. New Mexico was a desert like you might imagine in nature documentaries or old Road Runner cartoons. Intensely beautiful in a way that kept unfolding no matter how far you drove, full of mountains that turned it on themselves in dramatic shapes, red and yellow sandstone and the scrub grass and tiny brown birds and cacti. The only thing that could distract Blaine from the warm beauty of the countryside was that Kelly didn’t seem very happy, the same worrying whine from their trip up to Crater Lake returning. He could only hope that would pass, as it had before, but he still figured they should get off the road for the evening.

It did fade, actually, as they reached the Santa Fe outskirts. It wasn’t a big place but it was full of personality, its pueblo-style houses and apartments nestled right alongside other buildings you might find anywhere else. They got rooms for the night in an inn that was built in the same square, sandy style, and their rooms were sweet and cosy-looking. They had dinner in a nearby Mexican place, then turned in at a reasonable hour, hoping to get to Albuquerque early the next day. The next morning they were on their way there when Cooper, staring impatiently down at the red-marked map they were following, said, “Can we go to Austin next?”

“That’ll be a hike,” Blaine said, mentally picturing it. “At least eight hours.”

“But we’re taking too long. I want to get to New Orleans.”

“What’s so important about New Orleans, Coop? Did you lose something there?”

“I just want to see it.” Cooper said.

“That’s not all of it and you know it.”

“Nosy, Squirt. Mind your own business.”

“Okaay.” For all Blaine knew, this was an acting exercise. Actually, that seemed most likely. “If we drive overnight, maybe. I don’t want to do that to Kelly in the day, I don’t think she likes the heat.”

“Sounds good to me. And then we can be in Austin for breakfast. Texans love their breakfast, right?”

“I ... think so? Or …?”

They stared at each other, mentally sorting through Texan stereotypes other than ten gallon hats and voting red as the steak they loved, then gave up with a shrug. Albuquerque was within sight, anyways, so they went up to the front where Sebastian was driving and Rachel was quizzing him on his opinion on various movie musicals, which Sebastian was being rather game about, even if he’d told Blaine more than once that he was really more pop than musical theatre. Blaine leaned against his seat, watching the flex of Sebastian's forearms, and in the side mirror he could see the smile that curved Sebastian’s mouth when he registered Blaine’s presence.

Blaine wanted to kiss Sebastian’s head, but Cooper and Rachel were _right there_ and he liked his little secret? game? modesty? that had been keeping them on the down low for now.

Instead he shared Cooper and his plan of going to Austin, which got a skeptical brow raise from Sebastian and a “Ooh, the desert at _night!_ ” from Rachel. Cooper started off on some story about coyotes that was patently false but Blaine was too happy with Sebastian’s disbelieving snorts to get too annoyed with how Rachel’s gasps and wide eyes were clearly feeding Cooper’s ego. If nothing else, they were dating now, so he guessed Cooper had a right to get his ego stroked by Rachel.

Watching them, Blaine’s imagination took rein. The consequence of this relationship actually taking off, the two of them getting engaged, married, Rachel as his sister-in-law, his little nieces and nephews running around loud and needy, him and his mystery husband having to babysit and a tot with Rachel’s hair and Cooper’s eyes asking for a lullaby and Sebastian’s voice cradling _Rock-a-Bye Baby_ \--

Blaine froze. Closed his eyes. And put that thought far, far from mind.

\--

Albuquerque was large, steel-and-concrete, and bustling, but with a beating heart of an old town with the sandstone and adobe, like the desert had sprouted itself a nest in urbania. After they’d parked they’d visited that first, walking amidst the old churches and buildings, reading up on all the history of the area, delighting in details like buildings draped with garlands of hot peppers set out to dry in the oppressive heat and dancers in traditional dress who put on a performance in one of the patios, which had been a stunning display of twirling ruffles and well-timed feet. Sebastian had actually spoken to one of the dancers after, asking her some questions in Spanish, which had ended in what looked like an impromptu tap session. The woman, Sofia, had also recommended them a place for lunch before having to run off for her friend’s baby shower.

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” Blaine said, getting up from where he'd been watching Sebastian.

Sebastian shrugged, joining him. “Not really. But it’s so close to French I picked it up. You didn’t take it in school?”

“I got my second language requirement at Dalton. I took Latin.”

Sebastian grinned. “Of course you did.”

“If you ever need to tell an ancient Roman horde to back off, I can help you. And I speak Tagalog of course.”

“Trilingual. Hot.”

“I notice that’s also a compliment to yourself.”

“Actually, I also speak Italian too, so I’m _extra_ hot.”

“Yes you are.” Blaine nudged him. “You might want a hat, actually, you’re starting to burn.”

“I fucking hate the fucking sun.”

So Sebastian bought a (utterly tacky) baseball cap that read  _Albuquerque!_ , which paired with his white _No Apologies!_ shirt made him look like an enthusiastic tourist -- his scowl and red nose, less so. The heat got to them all; Blaine was wearing his lightest and shortest cottons and still mostly hid under his wicker fedora and prayed for clouds. Cooper bought a ten gallon hat and adopted a cowboy drawl which got some odd looks, and Rachel bought a fan which she began to use in part to hide her face. She still hadn’t put her wig back on, and her natural brown waves were free to ripple with each wave of her fan.

Looking at them, Blaine realized they really needed to do laundry soon, and made note to find a dry cleaners while they were in town. Sweat was going to ruin their garments at this rate.

After old town Blaine found a dry cleaners with same-day service and brought over their clothes while the other three took advantage of his responsibility to “Go pick something up.” When he pressed, they’d refused to share. Blaine was a little (a lot) suspicious he might get a supersoaker spray to the face or something, but when they met for lunch at a wonderful family-owned little place all they bore were their secretive smiles.

Blaine loved a good mystery. He’d just channel Nightbird and crack this.

After lunch they checked out the Indian Pueblo Cultural Centre, a low round building dedicated to the history and still-living Native culture of the nineteen Pueblo tribes of the region. They spent a good part of the afternoon touring it, admiring the art, dress, and documentaries on display, which were beautiful and informative in turn. Then they had a mid-midday snack in the attached café which boasted Native fusion food that was really, _really_ good. Blaine had never had a salad that he’d liked so much before, which was kind of depressing and made him question all his salad choices up to that point. All the foods he’d sacrificed along the way, too … it made him sigh. As he retrieved his camera on the way out (no photography) he was also disappointed to learn that they’d be missing out on the traditional dance that was held every weekend -- he’d have loved to see that, but it was two days away and Cooper had narrowed his eyes and sang-songed, “New Orleans,” as if he could see the cogs turning in Blaine’s brain.

“I don’t get what’s _up_ with him,” Blaine hissed lowly to Sebastian, where they sat at the small table, driving out to the National Petroglyph Monument while there was daylight left to appreciate it, and Cooper and Rachel chattered at the front without care.

“The New Orleans thing?”

“Yes! I haven’t seen him this obsessed with an idea since he decided to move to L.A.”

“Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s moving.”

Blaine’s stomach dropped. If Cooper moved -- and would he? he loved L.A. -- but if he moved, would he take Blaine with him? Would that be a way to chivy Blaine away? Time for Blaine to make something of himself again?

“Hey. I’m sure he’s not going anywhere. Where’s there to act in New Orleans?”

Blaine jumped, trying to smooth his face over. He hadn’t meant to be so distraught by the idea.

“Yeah. You’re right.” He smiled, and Sebastian raised an eyebrow, and he looked away, flustered. “We’ll find out when we get there. He can’t keep a secret.”

“He’s doing fine so far.”

“He …” Blaine had never thought of his brother as anything less than transparent. It was weird to hear Sebastian’s opinion differ. “But it’s obvious he’s hiding something.”

“So?”

“It’s not a secret if people know you have it,” Blaine explained. “Then it’s a lie.”

“Huh.” Sebastian’s other eyebrow went up. “Didn’t realize those were two different things.”

Blaine couldn’t meet Sebastian’s gaze now. This was strange.

“Secrets are personal. Lies are hurtful.”

“And if keeping a secret hurts you?”

“That’s different. It’s just you.”

“Now that’s depressing,” Sebastian said. “I’d rather just be honest. Let the chips fall.”

Blaine had to smile at that. “I think some people might say you’re _too_ honest.”

“Some people?” Sebastian asked. “Does that include you?”

“No …” Blaine admired a lot of traits he wasn’t sure he managed to channel himself. “I like honesty.”

“Well, I honestly think you’re super hot, and I’d like to kiss you.”

Blaine laughed, and leaned across the table, kissing Sebastian squarely on the mouth.

\--

After the fascinating monument, Blaine picked up their dry cleaning.

They ate dinner in the RV, sorting belongings back into suitcases or up to hang -- the RV looking a little less organized with suit jackets and dresses draped from the curtain rod for a curtain they didn’t have that was supposed to hide the kitchen -- and then it was time to leave Albuquerque.

He encouraged Rachel to take over first shift night driving, leaving Cooper to keep her awake and company, and took advantage of Sebastian taking a nap in the loft to search the RV for clues of the mysterious errand the three of them had run that morning. It didn’t take long to go through the space (he even flipped through the books on the shelf, mostly Sebastian’s mysteriously growing collection, nestled up against his own books) as if a hidden treasure map might fall out. In the kitchen, he rattled past some pots and pans, digging through cupboards, but all he found was a bag of flour which he wasn’t entirely sure they might not have bought back in Salem, and a lighter which was just common sense to have.

Blaine settled back on his heels, still peering into the cupboard. Maybe it was nothing.

“What are you doing?”

Blaine looked over, seeing nobody, before a noise made him lift his eyes. Sebastian was hanging over the edge of the loft upside-down, hair sticking out every which way and looking somewhat bleary-eyed with sleep as he stared at Blaine.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep, you look tired.”

“Mm. You want to know what we got today, don’t you?”

Busted. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, I’m just that smart.” Sebastian flashed a grin. “If you come up here, I’ll show you.”

Blaine was suspicious -- Sebastian wasn’t opposed to the _I got something to show you_ persuasion tactic to get Blaine into bed, which wasn’t something he complained about even if it got ‘Dick in a Box’ stuck in his head, but this mystery _was_ nagging at him -- but he came over anyways, climbing up the loft. Sebastian was lying down again, long body looking very tempting. Blaine bit his lip and shuffled forward on his knees before lying down on his belly, chin resting in his hands.

“And where is this?”

“Right here.” Sebastian rustled under the pillow, and came out with a bowtie that dangled between them. Blaine took it, stretching it out to admire the design -- stark black feathers against a white background. It was beautiful, and certainly reminiscent of New Mexico.

“Thank you. It’s gorgeous.” Blaine turned it over in his hands, then added, “I don’t think I’ve owned this many white bowties before.”

“Something different,” was Sebastian’s response, and Blaine leaned over, kissing him. They made out easily for a while, until Sebastian yawned against his mouth, at which point Blaine pulled away, laughing.

“You should sleep.”

“I’d rather kiss you.”

“Sleep, then kisses, okay?”

Sebastian nodded, eyes long side closed, and drifted off. Blaine lay there, playing with the bowtie and watching Sebastian sleep, too comfortable to consider moving, Sebastian solid against him, until he too felt the pull of the night despite the still-burning lights of the RV and fell asleep as well, listening to the quiet pattern of Sebastian’s breathing.

It was always so familiar. Maybe they breathed the same.

\--

The RV swerved, and Blaine jerked awake.

“Whsz?” Sebastian mumbled next to him, as Rachel shouted “Cooper!” and Cooper swore loudly. Blaine pushed himself up, spinning around and jerking as the RV took another wild swing, sending him careening into the angled walls of the loft. Swearing, Blaine crawled forward, shouting at the front, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Under control!” Cooper shouted back, and the RV did feel like it was slowing down. Blaine clung to the edge of the loft; past the windshield he could see a billow of white steam and the cracked black top of the road in the spill of the headlights.

Sebastian’s hand landed on his ankle. Blaine glanced back, and Sebastian was watching him.

“Not good,” Blaine said grimly. Sebastian nodded, and rubbed at his eye.

Once the RV came to a stop, Blaine clambered down the ladder and approached the front. They were at the side of the road, and Cooper had a white-knuckled grip on the wheel, Rachel with little imprints in her face from her nails where she’d been clutching it. Blaine peered at the steam, and said carefully, “Maybe we should get out.”

“Yeah.”

All four of them trooped out into the night, the headlights still flooding the area into unnatural relief, the radio still playing softly. They were, by Blaine’s rough estimate, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Only lonely desert stretched around them for miles in every direction; the road they were on was nothing major, just a black slash through the sandy dirt that looked like it hadn’t been repaired in a dog’s age. In the distance, some kind of hooting cut the air, and Cooper and Rachel huddled together muttering “ _Coyotes!”_ as one.

“Probably just an owl,” Sebastian muttered, while Blaine approached the RV hood. With a deep breath, he popped it open, and a billow of steam that hit him. He waved it away, propping it open and taking a look inside. The source of the steam was pretty obvious: the radiator. What exactly was _wrong_ with it, though, would take a little more work.

“Radiator’s busted,” Blaine reported.

“And that’s … bad?” Sebastian asked. “That thing’s not going to explode, is it?”

“No,” Rachel said. “It’s not that dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Blaine said. “Kelly’s just overheated, and if we don’t fix it, she won’t be moving anywhere anytime soon.”

“So?” Cooper asked impatiently. “Fix it. Or call a mechanic.”

“Let me see what’s wrong, first,” Blaine replied. Sparing a glance over his shoulder at where they were just standing there, added, “You can wait inside the RV, or I don’t know, set up the tents -- we might be here a while.”

Cooper heaved a dramatic sigh, but headed towards the RV, Sebastian following him after an unsure moment. Blaine waved him away, turning back to the engine, and was soon joined by Rachel who bit her lip.

“Maybe we should call a mechanic,” she said carefully.

“It’s the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. We’d have to somehow find a twenty-four hour service within driving distance, and then they’re just going to ask questions I should already have the answers to by looking at the engine,” Blaine said, shrugging. “Easier just to figure it out first.”

“I know, but …” she touched the edge of the RV, fingers dancing uneasily. “You could diagnose the problem faster with a mechanic guiding you, right?”

“Sure, I could.”

“We know a mechanic who’d pick up, even at this hour,” she persisted.

Blaine saw that one coming too late. Shaking his head, he looked back down at the engine. “I’m not going to bother Burt.”

“He really wouldn’t mind, Blaine. He’s very nice.”

“And why? I’m not going to be his son-in-law anymore.”

“So?” she said, quietly, “I for one was told that no matter what, I was a member of their family, and he wouldn’t turn from someone in need. You should give him more credit.”

Blaine knew that. Knew that when Kurt was off in New York and they were broken up Blaine had still been there for Burt’s doctor appointments and the occasional family dinners. But back then, he had thought that his and Kurt’s separation was only a matter of time. Now, it wasn’t. Now, it was permanent, and Blaine had to make sacrifices. There was no future there.

“Please, Blaine,” Rachel said. “Just consider it.”

She touched his elbow, briefly, then went back inside. A knot Blaine didn’t know was in his chest loosened; she hadn’t just gone and called anyways. A second later the radio was cranked up louder, the crackle of a weak signal adding an eerie quality to The Doors, and Blaine hummed along as he leaned against the RV and waited for the engine to cool down enough to poke around in.

 _People are strange when you're a stranger_  
_Faces look ugly when you're alone_  
_Women seem wicked when you're unwanted_ _  
Streets are uneven when you're down ..._

Cooper and Sebastian came out with the tents, and Rachel followed, two water bottles and some paper towel in hand; she handed a bottle and the paper towel to Blaine, who accepted it with a quiet, “Thank you.” Blaine went over to help them set up the tents, just inside the pool of light from the RV, where the curve of darkness edged them, hardly illuminated by the sliver of a moon. He peered out to it, wondering if coyotes really were out there, and hastened in stomping pegs into the hardpacked dry earth and popping the frame before heading back towards the relative safety of the RV.

Once they were ready, Sebastian brought out snacks and a deck of cards, and he, Cooper, and Rachel spread their towels on the ground, for all intents and purposes looking like they were having a two a.m. picnic in the bright yellow headlights as they started to deal. Blaine watched with amusement, but begged off participating, going to examine the engine instead. The radiator itself didn’t seem cracked or otherwise broken; there might have been a leak in the hoses, but he couldn’t see anything in the light of his phone or hear a tell-tale hiss. So nothing obviously wrong, which suggested it could be the fan or air trapped inside the hoses or another thing entirely he’d never heard of.

Blaine bit his lip. Looked over at Rachel, but she was grinning devilishly as she played a hand that made Cooper and Sebastian make matching groans of disbelief, so he looked away, considering his phone. It would be about three a.m. back in Ohio. _No matter what, I was a member of their family._

For a moment Blaine considered calling his own dad, and that was what made him scroll to the Hummel-Hudson home phone number and hit dial.

It took a few rings, but soon Carole answered, voice thick.

“ _Is that you Kurt?_ ” she asked. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

Blaine steeled him at that. “No, ma’am, Carole. It’s me. Blaine.”

“ _Blaine!_ ” she sounded more awake at that. “ _How are you?_ ”

“Fine. Uh … well. Not really.”

“ _Where are you?_ ” she asked, and there was a rustling sound, and then a grunt like she’d just poked Burt next to her, hissing, _Wake up!_. Blaine rushed to reassure her.

“Our RV broke down in the middle of the desert,” he said. “I was hoping Burt could guide me through figuring it out.”

It sounded stupid, out loud. He should have never called. Blaine’s fingers tightened on his phone, and it was only respect for how rude it would be to hang up now that kept him on the line.

“ _Oh, of course. Here he is, honey_ …”

More rustling, and then Burt’s familiar rumble of a voice. “Blaine?”

“I’m sorry to wake you and Carole,” Blaine said. “But we’re kind of stuck here, and I barely have service, and it’s seriously the middle of nowhere--.”

“ _Slow down_ ,” Burt ordered gently. Blaine’s mouth snapped shut. “ _First off, who’s we, and where is this nowhere_?”

“Um, we’re somewhere between Albuquerque and Austin, and we is me, Cooper, Rachel, and, um … Sebastian.”

“ _As in Smythe?_ ” Burt sounded like he was weighing that one. “ _Haven’t heard that name in a while_.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“ _And Rachel? You know, her dads are worried about her. Hasn’t been in touch recently_.”

“She’s been busy,” Blaine said automatically, shooting a glance over at Rachel, laughing over her hand. She appeared to be on roll. “I’ll get her to call them.”

“ _That’s good_.” Burt shifted, and Carole murmured something, too low for Burt to catch. He added, gruffly, “ _We’ve been worried about you too, son. Kurt said you left New York, but you didn’t come home._ ”

“I moved out to L.A. with Coop,” Blaine said, uncomfortable. He couldn’t believe they’d known that; it wasn’t like they were friends with his parents. Maybe Sam had mentioned it; Blaine knew he still hung out at their house a lot after living there, senior year. “Sorry if I worried you.”

“ _S’okay_ ,” Burt replied. “ _So tell me about this RV and what’s wrong with her_.”

“White steam. It’s the radiator, but I’m not sure exactly what the problem is …”

“ _Okay. So I need you to take a look at the cap for me, and the hoses_.”

“Hang on.” Blaine needed his phone to do that. He looked over at the trio, calling, “Can I borrow someone’s phone? I need a flashlight.”

A long moment of mutual staring, Sebastian and Rachel arguing lowly, until Cooper got up with a roll of his eyes and came over, flicking his light on and shining it in Blaine’s face. Blaine batted his hand away, frowning, then pointed it to the engine as he set his phone down and put Burt on speaker.

“The hoses seem fine,” Blaine said, following Burt’s directions. “I couldn’t see any evidence of leaking … and the cap is in one piece.”

“ _Do you smell anything? Kinda sweet?_ ”

“Who’s that?” Cooper interrupted. “Did you give up and call a mechanic?”

“Burt Hummel,” Blaine said, then added to the phone, “Sorry. That’s Cooper.”

Burt made a sound of amusement. “ _Brother, huh?_ ”

“I thought your boyfriend’s name was Kurt,” Cooper said, brows crinkling. “And he didn’t sound that butch.”

“Coop! ”

“ _That’s my son you’re talking about_ ,” Burt said, tone a little harder now.

“Sorry, man.” Cooper said, unperturbed. “The kid’s got a great singing voice.”

“ _He does_ ,” Burt agreed. Confident that disaster was averted, Blaine leaned forward, sniffing, and was pretty sure he could get a hint of what Burt was talking about.

“I smell something,” Blaine said. “Is that the coolant?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Burt said. “ _You got a leak. Check the water pump shaft seal, probably between the radiator and engine_.”

Blaine nudged Cooper, directing him where to shine the light, then reached his hands down between the still-warm metal, tracing his fingers along gently. Cooper, after a moment, said, “So. Burt and Kurt. That’s kind of weird.”

“Coop, shut up.”

“I mean, it’s like if our mom was called Elaine or something. You name your kid, Burt?”

“ _His mom liked_ The Sound of Music,” Burt said. “ _Who’re you named after, kid?_ ”

Cooper shifted, the admitted slowly, “Nobody.”

“I found something,” Blaine said, and brought his fingers out to the light; they were stained with a dripping blue. “It’s coming from pump shaft.”

Burt sighed. Blaine could practically see him scratching his head. “ _That’s a replacement job, son. You’re gonna need to get it into a shop_.”

“Is there anything we can do? Just to get us to the next town?” Blaine asked. He didn’t fancy the alternative. “Getting a tow truck all the way out here is going to be hard and expensive.”

“ _Yeah_ …” Burt made a considering sound. “ _It won’t be a permanent fix. You gotta promise me you’ll stop at the next mechanic, and call me so I know you didn’t die._ ”

“Of course, anything.”

“ _Then you’re gonna temporarily seal the leak, and replace the antifreeze -- you got any coolant in the RV?_ ”

“No. Just water.”

“ _Not perfect, but it’ll hold you over, ‘specially if you got coolant still in there. So Blaine, I want you to go get this stuff, if you got them_ …”

It took well over half an hour, and Burt remained patiently on the phone the entire time, directing Blaine through the careful patch job he was doing on something he couldn’t even really see. Much to the relief of Blaine’s nerves, Cooper kept quiet, just acting as a human flashlight and steadying Blaine when he was balanced on his toes to reach. Burt, between instructions, asked Blaine about where he’d been and where they were thinking of going next, and Blaine told him about Portland and plans for Texas and other PG adventures he’d had.

Finally, Burt was satisfied with Blaine’s work. “ _So don’t tip the water in until you’re ready to go. It won’t handle the heat of the engine so you want it cool as possible when you go_.”

“Will do.”

“ _And remember: call me_.”

“I will,” Blaine promised. “We probably won’t leave until early morning, so I’ll call you in the day. You’ll be at work?”

“ _Yeah, yeah, do that. And then I can tell you if your mechanic’s trying to rip you off_ …”

“Thanks Burt,” Blaine said. “Seriously, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Cooper added.

“ _Any time. I’m glad you called me, Blaine_.”

Blaine nodded, then added afterwards, “Yeah. Thank Carole for picking up, too.”

“ _I will. Now remind Rachel to call her dads, and get some sleep. You sound dead on your feet_.”

Blaine was actually feeling a bit wired, but he agreed. “Goodnight, Burt. Thanks again.”

“ _Night, Blaine. Stay safe_.”

Burt hung up, and Blaine wiped his hands on the paper towel, getting them as antifreeze-free as possible before retrieving his phone and shutting the hood. Cooper was watching him, head tilted in consideration. Blaine scowled at him. “You shouldn’t have been so rude to Burt.”

“I just asked some questions,” Cooper said innocently. “You and him are close, huh?”

“He was going to be my father-in-law. Of course we’re close.”

“Huh.” Cooper looked like he had a lot to say to that, but for once he bit his tongue. “Come on, we had a killer game of Go Fish doing for a while there …”

“Go Fish?”

“Hey, a game’s only as intense as its players.”

“Let me turn off the lights first. No point wasting the battery.”

Blaine did just that, shutting off the interior lights as well and washing his hands and coming out with a large camping flashlight, then joined everyone for poorly-lit Go Fish, his jumping nerves making everything so much more dramatic than it was. He ended up laughing and whooping loudly whenever he made a match as a result, but the night was pleasant and the company was good and Rachel had helped him make a call he never thought he would again and Cooper was being all kinds of annoying and Sebastian kept touching his thigh and it was three in the morning and he was lost in the desert, so really, he was owed a little laughter. Just to laugh, and have the feeling linger, not be swept away by some empty wind inside of him -- that was to be cherished.

Around four, a victorious Rachel heaved a cutely theatrical yawn then announced, “Time for bed.”

“Agreed,” Cooper said, as Rachel headed to the RV to get ready for the night. Cooper watched her go, yet still found focus to add, “ _Some_ of us didn’t get to nap tonight.”

“Then go to sleep,” Blaine said, and Cooper flipped him off. “That’s so two thousand and late, Coop.”

“Brat.” Cooper swiped at Blaine’s head as he got to his feet -- Blaine ducked -- then headed toward the RV. Blaine jumped as the tip of Sebastian’s cool nose pressed against the back of his neck, then, followed by a kiss to the top knob of his spine. Blaine exhaled, leaning back into it.

“So are you feeling tired?” Sebastian asked against his nape, lips brushing sensitive skin, and Blaine shivered. “No?”

“No.” Blaine tilted his head to the side as Sebastian kissed further up his neck, making his way steadily to Blaine’s jaw, shifting so he was pressed against Blaine as he sucked a kiss onto Blaine’s pulsepoint. Blaine could feel his heart pounding against the press of Sebastian’s tongue, or maybe that was just his heart kicking up a hot thunderstorm in his chest.

“The _n_ ,” Sebastian said, grin in his voice, nose brushing Blaine’s jaw, “We can take this into the tent?”

“Yeah …” Blaine pulled away reluctantly, and a second later Rachel came around the RV, dressed in PJs and her hair in plaits, Cooper following her soon after. “Night, guys,” Blaine called, voice hoarse to his own ears.

“Niiiight,” Cooper sang, throwing a broad wink before he followed Rachel into their tent. Blaine and Sebastian got ready to turn in, which involved lots more kissing than technically necessary, and might have just done it in the loft if it weren’t for the fact that it was even less maneuvering room than their tent. They were back in that, minty fresh and kissing and a faint hint of dawn on the horizon as some tired part of Blaine’s bed said _sleep_ while everything else said _fuck_ , when Blaine realized a problem in their plan, stopping Sebastian as he made his way down Blaine’s body.

“Condom.”

“Ugh.” Sebastian dropped his forehead to Blaine’s hip. “I’ll get it.”

“No, I can do it,” Blaine said, reluctantly sitting up. “They’re in my bag, right?”

“True.” Sebastian grinned, flopping over onto the sleeping bag and waggling his fingers at Blaine in goodbye. “Besides, if I’m going to blow your mind, I better conserve my energy.”

Blaine ducked a kiss to Sebastian’s hand, shaking his head in amusement, then crawled out of the tent. Faint hint of dawn or not, it was still dark as out, and Blaine could barely see the RV, large as she was, in the sliver moonlight -- except her interior lights flicked on. Blaine frowned and came up slower, hands curling into fists, figuring it was low chance of a mid-desert burglar and more likely just Rachel having forgot her sleep mask, but no point of being unprepared. The door to the RV was open and Blaine peeked his head in, and relaxed when he saw Cooper, who was rummaging … in Blaine’s suitcase?

“What the hell, Coop?” Blaine entered, taking satisfaction in how Cooper jumped, spinning around with a guilty expression.

“Uh, hey, Blainey. Can’t sleep?”

“Why are you going through my stuff?”

“Looking for condoms,” Cooper answered blithely. “My stash is gone.”

“You could have just asked!” Blaine said, coming over and pushing Cooper away. “Why do you always steal my stuff?”

“Condoms are communal. That’s just common sense.”

“You didn’t buy them,” Blaine said, kneeling and unzipping a hidden pocket in the side of his suitcase. Looking in, he froze. Only one little package greeted him, and he tried to grab it before Cooper noticed but Cooper’s hand struck like a snake, snagging it. “Coop!”

“What? You said I could have one!”

“No, I didn’t!” Blaine made a grab for it, and Cooper stood up, holding it out of Blaine’s reach, which had to be on the top ten of most annoying things Cooper or anybody else could ever do to Blaine and made his blood temperature rise as he made another swipe for it. “Coop! That’s _mine!_ ”

“So? I need it more than you!”

“Since when?”

“Since you can’t knock Sebastian up!” Cooper replied, tucking the condom to his chest and twirling away, trying to shuffle out of the RV. Blaine dived at him, tackling his brother into the wall, the whole RV shaking with the impact. “Get -- off!”

“No!” Blaine pinned Cooper, scrabbling at Cooper’s closed fist. “Give it back, you _jerk!_ ”

“Aw, is baby Blainey angwy at jerky Cooper for not _shawing?_ ”

“Cooper, you --!” Blaine didn’t like to swear that much. It really was ungentlemanly, not a thing you’d catch Gene Kelly doing. But right then, he couldn’t help a, “You _asshole_ ,” which shocked Cooper into relaxing his hand enough that Blaine was able to tear the condom free of his evil grasp.

Satisfied, Blaine made to scamper back to his tent, dodging a swing of Cooper’s arms and making it to the stairs before Cooper tackled him again. They fell, _hard_ , onto the harder ground, inches from the pavement, the wind knocked out of Blaine as he gasped for breath, his ribs each adding their individual pained cries as his knees burned. In his state Cooper was able to make a grab for the condom; Blaine regained himself through fury alone and dived at Cooper as he tried to stumble to his feet, wrapping his arms around Cooper’s knees and bringing him back to the ground. He crawled over Cooper’s prone figure, digging his knee into Cooper’s back for good measure, and strained for the bright red foil peeking out between Cooper’s fingers.

Cooper curled his hand into a fist, and tried to flip himself over, ramming an elbow into Blaine’s side that flared painfully and let Cooper use his size advantage, tipping Blaine back to the ground and getting to his feet while Blaine rolled away. Blaine jumped up, panting heavily and chasing Cooper across the expanse between the RV and the tents, catching up with him and kicking out -- direct hit, right behind the knee, and down Cooper went again, hissing a “ _Fuck!_ ”

Blaine jumped him, flipping him over and giving a smart slap up Cooper’s dumb head to daze him further, which was really the picture of restraint because Blaine packed a mean punch and wasn't afraid to use it. Then he grabbed the condom, and ran.

He might have made it, really, except Rachel (hidden in the shadows of her tent) tripped him, and Blaine stumbled and landed directly on his tent. Pegs tore free, rope flew wildly, poles snapped, and down Blaine went in a hail of canvas that wrapped around him, hearing Sebastian’s startled squawk inside.

“Blaine!” Rachel squealed. “I’m sorry, but you were _attacking_ Cooper, oh god, are you okay --”

“He started it!” Blaine hissed, flailing and batting at the tent attacking _him_. Seeing Cooper on his way over with big brother murder in his eyes (last time Blaine had seen that look, he’d been eight and Cooper had held a pillow over his face to stop his screaming, and _this_ was why only children were lucky --) and tucked the condom into his underwear waistband for safekeeping.

“Oh god --” Rachel came over, trying to help him up, and Blaine let her, putting her between him and his brother. Cooper glared, an impressive streak of dirt painting one side of his face and a red mark blooming on the other, hair in disarray. “Stop it, you two! This is barbaric!”

“What the fuck is _happening_ ,” Sebastian asked, crawling out of the collapsed tent. “Did a bear attack, or something?”

“Fork it over, Blaine,” Cooper said, “And I’ll forget that you nearly broke my _award-winning teeth_ _!_ ”

“It was one contest in sixth grade! Get over it!” Blaine started to back up, still keeping Rachel between them. “And it’s _mine!_ ”

“You brat!” Cooper stepped forward but Sebastian intercepted him, placing a stern hand on Cooper’s chest, while Rachel grabbed hold of Blaine’s arm, stopping his own attempt to beat it and run further into the dark desert. Stalled, he and Cooper glared at each other, breathing heavily, until Sebastian forcibly turned Cooper around, wrapping an arm around Cooper’s shoulders and guiding him away, muttering something which Cooper snorted angrily at.

“Blaine, what _was_ that?” Rachel asked him, and Blaine shook his head, exhaling gustily, then straightened, smoothed out his face, and sought some pleasant emotion so he could smile at her like she’d not just witnessed him completely losing his cool.

“Nothing,” Blaine said. “Sorry if we scared you. You get some sleep, okay, I’m going to put the tent back up.” Rachel gave him an unsure look, so he tried again. “I’m not going to go chase Cooper down or anything. It was just brothers being brothers.”

“Okay.” Rachel surprised him with a hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. I’m going to check on Cooper.”

Blaine nodded, watching Rachel patter off into the darkness toward where Cooper and Sebastian were standing on the road, talking, and grimly got to work reassembling the tent. He struggled with getting the poles joined until Sebastian joined him, silently helping. Once the tent was back up, Blaine crawled inside, collapsing on his messed-up nest of a sleeping bag and curling up. His head hurt, his knees throbbed, his elbows we skinned, and there was still a faint ache to his ribs that should be gone soon enough. Hardly a beating, and therefore nothing very serious, but it still _hurt_ and goddamn it, he hated his stupid brother.

Sebastian followed him in, fixing his own sleeping bag before reclining on it on his side so he could give Blaine a searching look, head propped up, the picture of ease.

“So … what was that about?”

“This.” Blaine reached into his waistband, took out the condom, and threw it at Sebastian; it hit Sebastian’s chest then fell down, and Sebastian snorted.

“Seriously? All that over a condom? You must have been _really_ horny. My apologies, then, I guess.”

“It wasn’t just about that.”

“So what the hell was it about, then?”

“It’s about …” Blaine tugged the sleeping bag over his bare ankles. “Him being my brother and a selfish jerk and I _hate_ him.”

“No you don’t.”

Blaine rolled over, deciding he didn’t want to deal with Sebastian being reasonable, right now. He was tired and grumpy and still vaguely horny and more importantly _mad_. He hoped that Cooper’s stupid perfect jaw got a bruise.

“You love him,” Sebastian persisted.

“Of course I love him,” Blaine said, sighing and rubbing his eyes, wincing as he found that his cheeks were still dirty. He brushed at them absently. He should wash that, it would be hell on his pores. “He’s my brother. I’ll get over it. But right now, I hate him. Sometimes you just want to say you hate someone.”

“Okay. I get that.”

“I hate Cooper,” Blaine repeated, eyes shutting. “I hate Cooper and I hate his stupid RV and I hate the desert and I hate that I’m here.” And why was he here? Where else would he be? It wasn’t like he had a home to return to. “I hate L.A. and I hate New York and I hate Kurt Hummel and I hate my stupid brain.”

A shuffling sound, and Sebastian was hovering over him, hair flopping down out of its hold across his forehead. He began a “Do you --” and then shook his head, smiling at Blaine. He lay down, arms folded on Blaine’s chest and chin hooking over them, and Blaine gave him a suspicious look before directing his gaze up to the tent roof. Sebastian’s weight was a firm, comfortable press against his chest, keeping him grounded while he kept playing the fight over and over in his head, wearing down the rewind on something that made him mentally wince more each time he saw it.

“I should go apologize to Cooper,” Blaine said, but when he tried to move Sebastian kept lying on him like a cuddly lump.

“Nah,” Sebastian said. “Let him cool down. He’ll still be there in the morning.”

“You say that now, but wait until he sneaks out early with the RV and abandons us …”

Sebastian snorted, shifting himself to get cozier. He sounded sleepy but not disinterested when he said, “Sleep it off, Blaine.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

“We’ll probably just fight again, if I go.”

“I imagine so.” Sebastian yawned, then murmured, “I can’t believe you actually, like, physically fought him.”

“Words wouldn’t have made him drop it.”

“I’ve never been in a fight-fight before.”

“Really?”

“What? Is that so weird? I can talk my way out of most problems.”

“I guess so.” Blaine turned that over. “I don’t know any teenage boys who never got into one single fight. Not even like, a shoving match, a couple punches?”

“‘Not even?’ Jesus, Rambo, no.”

It was kind of funny to think that their Michael-off had been the closest thing to a real fight that Sebastian had ever been in, and _Blaine_ who had founded fight clubs and taken a hell of a few hard hits in his life had been the one to end up in the hospital.

For the sake of not ruining Sebastian’s sweet calm here, remembering how on-edge he’d gotten at Crater Lake, Blaine didn’t voice that thought.

“Huh. Well, I suppose words are the better choice …”

“Duh. Less chance of a jailtime.”

“Something you’ve thought about?”

“Mm-hmm. Violence isn’t the answer, man.”

Blaine grinned at Sebastian’s hippy impersonation. “Personally, I blame violent video games.”

“Oh, like the dragon one? What is that even about?”

“Skyrim? Um. It’s an RPG.”

Sebastian made a quiet noise, then added, “And? Why are dragons eating you?”

“You don’t actually want to know, do you?”

“Would I ask if I didn’t? Tell me.”

“Okay, well …” Blaine dived into a lengthy explanation of the lore, the characters, the silly glitches and the amazing battles, trying to keep it clinical but that was near-impossible; he’d forgotten how fun it was to talk about games with a plot. Sam and Artie were too into FPS and there were only so many times you could discuss your perfect sniper shots. Sebastian kept doing these slow nods and occasionally humming or asking a question, but Blaine could tell he was on the edge of sleep, and gentled his voice, trailing off slowly.

Sebastian fell asleep while still using Blaine as a pillow, in his enviable ability to sleep whenever, wherever. Blaine had never had that talent. He’d been uncomfortable with it; the idea of sleeping in front of people brought up a similar unease that having his hair undone might. Of course, when he was a depressed freefall he lost care for that just like he stopped gelling, and he was almost a little grateful to be on the other end of the spectrum now: he couldn’t sleep, despite how tired he was, his mind tripping over itself and thinking too loud. Forget sleep; that wasn’t coming unless he got an orgasm or maybe some cold medicine. His mind flashed to Tina, and the whole awkward mess that had been her crush on him. A whole therapy session, right there. What was she doing right now? Tina’d had so many words to say to Kurt; he wondered what she’d think of Sebastian being curled up with him now.

Nothing flattering, maybe. Of course, she’d been right about Kurt. Maybe.

He wished he could reach his phone, had his laptop. He wanted to write down the events before he forgot the exact white-hot rage that overcome him. Phillipa would have words for that, wouldn’t she?

Blaine drifted through his thoughts until he heard a car drive by (slowing down, then likely noting their tents and moving on) and it made him aware of how bright the diffused light through the thin walls of the tent was. Dawn must be upon them, and Blaine wanted to start driving before the day got any hotter in deference to their hasty radiator solution.

He slowly wiggled free from under Sebastian, who grumbled and cracked an eyelid before settling back down into the warm spot of Blaine’s sleeping bag. Blaine sat up, taking a moment, just a few slow breaths, to appreciate how peaceful Sebastian looked. Then he crawled out of the tent and set about washing his face, brewing a pot of coffee, and filling the radiator up. As he did this the pre-dawn wash of silvers and faint pinks grew into a burst of orange light over the horizon, and Blaine took a few moments, seated on top of the RV hood and drinking his coffee, to appreciate the sight of the large red disk of the sun rising up, turning the earth orange in creeping inches until it reached their little encampment, the shadows stretching away from it like they were fleeing the light now turning the sky distantly warm and above-him blue. It was one of the most beautiful sunrises he’d ever seen, but he didn’t feel a compulsion to photograph it; it seemed like something that deserved to only belong here and now, and it would just diminish it to try and capture it.

Some things were better left as they were.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: _[People Are Strange](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJY8jJkDoMY)_ by The Doors.
> 
> The bowtie Seb gets Blaine is [HERE](https://www.thetiebar.com/product/BT063).


	8. saw you dancing in the gym

Once he’d woken everyone up (Sebastian heaving out a “Yes, Coach,” and getting up with startling speed; Cooper giving him an ugly look; Rachel looking peaky, and clinging to Cooper’s hand) and broken up camp, Blaine offered to drive. Nobody else seemed capable, moving around in states of zombiefication.

Cooper and Rachel disappeared into the loft, and Sebastian flopped down on the bench and apparently went back to sleep. Blaine put on his sunglasses, turning on the radio before pulling onto the road, setting it very low so as to not disturb those in the back.

 _Never knew love like this_  
_The wind, the moon, the earth, the sky_  
_Sky so high_  
_Never knew pain like this_  
_Everything die, then die_  
_Never knew love like this_  
_The sun, the sea, you and I (you and I)_  
_Never knew pain, never knew shame_ _  
Now I know why_ ...

Morning rose properly, and Blaine found his way to civilization, a small city called Lubbock.

He’d never heard of it before, and seeing a square, grey city rise up out of the desert was like coming across a mirage. Blaine pulled into the first motel he found, renting two rooms and gently shepherding everyone and their suitcases inside, and found the nearest reputable mechanic. He called ahead, and confirming they did RVs, drove Kelly over. Thankfully, Kelly was behaving, but he kept an eye on her hood all the same. His lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him; his eyes were burning and his blinks felt too heavy; he pictured, with no small jealousy, Sebastian fast asleep in their bed and waiting for his return.

One of the garage doors were open and a mechanic was slowly waving him in. Blaine drove in, parking where they indicated and killing the engine, and called Burt. He answered immediately.

“ _Burt Hummel_.”

“Hey, Burt. It’s Blaine. Just pulled into a mechanic.”

“ _Good_ ,” Burt said, then, “ _You get any sleep, son? You still sound dead on your feet_.”

“Um, not really. Couldn’t sleep.”

“ _Hope you didn’t drive too far like that_.”

“Not too far,” Blaine lied, and it may very well have been the first lie he’d ever told Burt. It made his gut twist. “We’re all okay.”

“ _Huh. Call back when you’re talking prices, okay? I’ll help you haggle_.”

“Okay. Thanks Burt.”

“ _No problem, Blaine_.”

Blaine hung up, exiting the car. The mechanic had already popped the hood and was taking a look inside. “Radiator?” he asked Blaine.

“Yeah. The water pump shaft. We think it needs to be replaced.”

“You did a good patch job, considering.”

“I had some help.”

“Hopefully not same one who gave you that.” The mechanic nodded to Blaine’s bruised jaw.

“Fight with my brother,” Blaine admitted. The mechanic chuckled.

“We all been there. My big brother broke my arm once accidentally, held a grudge for just about a whole year …”

They shared a commiserating look over sibling misadventures, and the mechanic, Daryl, seemed to take to Blaine after that. He turned out to have a replacement in stock -- “Lucky you, or you’d have to wait until we ordered one in from Austin; now it can be same-day” -- and agreed easily with the price Burt helped Blaine name. Daryl even offered to have one of his younger mechanics to drive Blaine back to the motel. Blaine was feeling very good about his negotiating abilities even on no sleep after that, and his success was only slightly undercut by getting into Daryl’s pickup only to realize that he was still wearing blue cotton pyjamas and his loafer-slippers.

Hm. Maybe more sleep-deprived than he thought. Blaine flashed an abashed smile at the younger mechanic, who gave a sweet grin back, and Blaine drifted off against the rattling window of the truck before they reached the motel and he was shaken awake. He thanked the mechanic, getting out and heading for his room with weaving sleep-drunk steps, thankful he’d kept one of the keys (actual keys, not even a card) as he let himself in after a few tries.

Sebastian was awake, but still in bed, blankets kicked off near his feet while he read. Blaine came over, flopping onto the bed and crawling up to Sebastian’s side. “Hey.”

“Hey. RV at the shop?” Sebastian tossed his book aside.

“Yeah. They said they’ll finish it today.”

“Awesome.” Sebastian reached over, tucking a loose curl back behind Blaine’s ear. “Now, you get some sleep.”

“Should I? If everyone else is awake --”

“Barely.” Sebastian affected a fake yawn, and suddenly rolled them over, leaving Blaine startled and squished beneath him as he pressed down to kiss Blaine, fingers tickling over where Blaine’s shirt had rucked up. “Sleep or sex, but either way, I’m not leaving this bed.”

“Okay.” Blaine closed his eyes. Exhaustion had settled so deep in his bones, he thought he might calcify into some odd shape, like something out of a dark cave. “Sleep.”

“Aw, but you got me all horny …”

“I didn’t do anything,” Blaine protested, lazily whacking Sebastian’s arm.

“You don’t need to do anything to make me horny.”

Blaine smiled to himself, nudging Sebastian so he could get more comfortable, and Sebastian rolled off. A second later there was a rustling and a snapping sound, and the sheet settled over him, and Blaine grabbed it, curling it into himself as he rolled over, nose bumping against warm skin; he nuzzled it, pretty sure it was Sebastian’s collarbone, and Sebastian’s big hand was curling across his waist underneath the sheet and squeezing.

“Now you _are_ making me horny.”

“Sorry,” Blaine murmured, fighting a grin.

“No you aren’t. What am I supposed to do about this?”

Sebastian shifted, hips rolling, and Blaine could feel him, hard against his belly. Blaine shimmied in closer, grin widening when Sebastian groaned in suffering.

“Take care of it yourself?” Blaine suggested.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave this bed, didn’t I? Besides, you’re my muse.”

Sebastian was teasing, Blaine could tell, practically feel the amused rumble of his voice where his nose was pressing against the warm junction of neck and chest, but Blaine didn’t see why he had to let Sebastian have all the fun.

“Then jerk off on me. Just let me sleep.”

Sebastian inhaled sharply, hand sliding down to Blaine’s lower back and pulling him in. Then, his voice sort of low and sexy-serious, he said, “Blaine Anderson, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Don’t die in bed with me. That’s gross.”

“But dying in bed with you is exactly how I want to go.”

“That’s quite odd …”

“You make me odder.”

Blaine didn’t reply to that, just kissed Sebastian’s chest and let sleep finally take him.

\--

Blaine woke a few hours later, sleep schedule a little weaker, but his mind a whole lot brighter.

He yawned and stretched, grinning when he saw Sebastian, hugging his pillow and still asleep. Blaine leaned over, kissed his cheek, and then went to take a shower, shedding his pyjamas as he went. He lost track of time under the water, giving his hair and scrapes a thorough washing, and jumped when the door to the bathroom opened. He peered at the opaque shower curtains, and a second later came the distinct sound of someone pissing.

“Sebastian --?”

“You were taking forever,” Sebastian whined.

“... At least warn me before you flush.”

Blaine and Kurt had never really done this before. It was weird, when he and Kurt had practically been experts, dedicating themselves to new levels of domesticity that had made their other friends jealous. _Live in each other’s pockets_ , Burt had once said. He stared at the wall, and tried not to think about it. “Hey,” Sebastian said, and Blaine stepped out of the spray as Sebastian flushed, and the sink ran, and then the shower curtain twitched aside to reveal Sebastian, quite naked.

“Can I join you?”

Blaine stepped aside, gesturing, and Sebastian joined him, ducking his head under the spray and running hands through his hair to get it soaked. Blaine reached up to help, scratching the back of Sebastian’s scalp and watching Sebastian’s lashes flutter shut. Blaine pressed up, giving him a slow kiss, their lips connecting wetly and water running down their cheeks, curling under their noses and making Blaine snort and pull away, breathing through his mouth. Sebastian smirked, and pushed Blaine in deeper, until Blaine was backed up against the cool tile wall underneath the arc of the shower head’s spray, Sebastian kissing him again, a curl of tongue and nip of teeth that Blaine met and returned with interest as he threaded his fingers in Sebastian’s thick wet hair and gripped it tightly, tugging as he arched up into Sebastian.

The steam of the shower seemed to get that much thicker in his lungs as they rocked together, not quite making contact because Sebastian was _so damn tall_ , and Blaine wouldn’t change a thing about it, how Sebastian could cover him like a waterfall and keep Blaine pressed down, a force of nature that still took the time to brush the hair from his eyes, a tender caress at odds with the way his other hand curled around his side. The shower acoustics just amplified everything -- the gasps, little groans, the small sound, almost lost, from Sebastian when Blaine dug his nails into Sebastian’s broad back, leaving red marks to kiss against the freckles.

“God …” Sebastian mumbled against Blaine’s ear, sucking on it, then his jaw, teeth and tongue, back to kissing him while still keeping up a reverent stream of, “God, _god_ , you are so hot --”

Blaine let go of Sebastian, blindly groping above him for the shower head. He found the pipe that held it out of the wall and curled his hands around it, pulling himself up onto his tip-toes and his precarious balance was helped by Sebastian grabbing handfuls of his ass and _squeezing_ , and they rocked together, the perfect slide of their hard dicks a shot straight up Blaine’s spine that left his hands burning against the hot metal of the showerhead, thighs trembling and head tipped back, Sebastian temple pressed against his and panting raggedly in his ear, sweat dripping down and melting into the steam of the air, bellies smeared with precome and he could smell it, sharp underneath the patter of the shower that was loud in his ears but not as loud as Sebastian’s “ _Fuck_ , you _\--_ god --” and Blaine was close, close, balls drawing up and arms locked and legs about to collapse under him. He tilted his head, dragged his mouth along Sebastian’s cheek, his jaw, mouthing desperately until their mouths met, groaning against Sebastian’s tongue and sucking on it as he came in jerks, grinding his hips up and urging Sebastian until Sebastian was lifting him up, no space between their bodies now as they melted into the wall, Blaine’s thighs wrapped loosely around Sebastian’s narrow hips as Sebastian moaned and bit his lip and came too.

They hung, suspended for a moment, Blaine’s arms dropping to curl over Sebastian’s shoulders and hold him close as they kissed, and kissed again, Sebastian still supporting him as they came down. Then he wiggled, dropping his legs and landing back on the shower floor, slipping a little and Sebastian’s hands moving just to stop the wild swing of his arms. He squeezed Blaine’s biceps, then kissed his temple.

“Wow,” Blaine said, kissing Sebastian’s jaw in return. “Okay.”

Sebastian laughed, pulling them back into the spray, and reached for the soap. “Agreed.”

Blaine kissed him again, because he could, and they finished showering, toweling each other off with far too many towel snaps from Sebastian, and were dressed, hair redone, and ready to face the rest of the day. They headed over to Cooper and Rachel’s room, on the other side of the motel complex, and rapped on the door. No answer.

“Think they’re still sleeping?” Blaine asked. It was about one p.m., so that seemed a little unlikely, but.

“Or they’re in there, boning.”

“Don’t be disgusting.”

Sebastian grinned, leaned in, and pressed his ear to the door. A second later his smile turned into a smirk of triumph. “One-two-three, two birds in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G.”

“That’s not a real song.”

“It should be. All that moaning and groaning and skin-slapping can be the bass track.” Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “Wow, that’s a _lot_ of squelching. Think she’s a squirter?”

“Sebasti _an_ ,” Blaine hissed. “There is no way you can even hear all that.”

“I have great hearing. Go on, take a listen if you don’t believe me.”

Blaine frowned, leaned in, pressed his ear to the door two. A second later he was jumping away like it had burned, face following suit in a flush of heat as he wiped his hands down on his thighs.

“Ew. _Ew_.”

“Oh yeah, two attractive people having sex, yikes!”

Blaine glared, and then a thought struck him. “We should stop them.”

“What? No. Let’s just go eat, I’m starving.”

“The didn’t have a condom,” Blaine pointed out. “They could be in there, right now …”

“Making a baby?” Sebastian considered the door. “I’m sure that’s not what’s happening. They probably grabbed a condom from the front desk.”

“And if they didn’t?”

“I’ve heard the pull-out method isn’t _that_ ineffective ....”

Blaine stepped forward, raised his fist, and hammered on the door. A faint stutter in the sound on the other side. “Cooper!”

A pause, and Blaine hammered some more; “Coop! ER!”

Then, Cooper shouting: “GO! AWAY!”

“Not until you tell me you’re using protection!” Blaine hollered back.

“GO! AWAY!”

“THAT’S NOT A YES OR NO!”

“YES! NOW GO! AWAY!”

Blaine stepped back, seeing that Sebastian was smothering a laugh, looking somewhere behind them. Blaine turned, and saw an older couple staring at them, jaws a little low.

“What?” Sebastian asked them. “Can’t some homosexuals just knock up their friends having congress outside of marriage in peace?”

The jaws went a little lower, gazes askance.

“Sorry,” Blaine added to them, and grabbed Sebastian’s arm, towing him in the opposite direction as fast as he could. Sebastian followed, still snickering, and they started for the restaurant Blaine had noted on their way in. It was nice, if not the most remarkable food they’d had on their trip, but maybe that was because Blaine couldn’t even tell you what he’d had. Sometime after ordering, he had looked around their cosy little booth and felt Sebastian’s foot pressing against his ankle and realized that they were alone. Alone, and hooking up, and kind of living together, and out to eat and well …

Blaine wished he’d kept the menu to bury his face in. He needed to think.

Sebastian, of course, was able to tease a conversation out of him and Blaine was eager for the distraction, even as he became too aware of how his hands were flying as he got excited or what the hell was he wearing, something very boring (he looked down to check) and he’d done his hair, right? (He touched it. Yes.) Sebastian had no right to look as casual as he did, sitting there in just a cotton t-shirt and shorts, hair sticking up at angles because he’d let it air dry after their shower, smiling that way at Blaine that made his own mouth ache sweetly.

Sebastian’s foot never left his ankle.

They ordered some food to go and brought it back; Rachel answered the knock this time, dressed and smelling freshly-showered. Blaine extended the doggie bag to her, while she bashfully looked somewhere down around his knees.

“Thank you, Blaine.”

“You’re welcome.”

An awkward silence fell, during which Sebastian cleared his throat pointedly. Rachel’s chin darted up, her eyes blazing as she got out in a rush, “Blaine, I assure you, I am a confident, resourceful modern woman and I would never allow myself to engage in unsafe sex.”

“I -- of course,” Blaine said weakly. “I just thought I’d double check.”

“Well. Just so you know.”

Rachel then took the food with a final mumbled thank you, and shut the door in their faces. Blaine looked over at Sebastian, who shrugged.

“We’ve got time to spare before the RV is ready,” Blaine said. “Why don’t we see what Lubbock has to offer?”

“Lead the way, then.”

\--

Lubbock wasn’t bursting with activity, but Sebastian, with a nose for large groups of people his age having fun and letting loose, led the way to Texas Tech, which was in the heart of the city.

They spent a few silly hours in the National Ranching Heritage Center there. At the front, Sebastian got him to climb on top of a statue of a cowboy riding a horse and then joined him, sandwiching the bronze cowboy and snapping a quick photo of their “Menage a trois,” as Sebastian purred with far too much enthusiasm, before security chased them off.

“Desolé!” Sebastian cried out. “Nous sont touristes, comment vous-dites, tourists --”

“It’s okay,” the guard said gruffly, “Uh, just --” he waved them down, Sebastian continuing to babble while Blaine nodded as French-ly as he could. Once they were free of the guard’s stern gaze Sebastian grinned and threw an arm around Blaine’s shoulders, and Blaine had to laugh at the smugness he radiated.

“Play that one a lot? The lost French tourist?”

“Not often. I _did_ play the lost French transfer student, first few days at Dalton.”

“... Why?”

“Because it was funny. Don’t you ever do things just because they’re funny?”

“No?”

“And yet you’re not humourless. That’s what makes you _so_ unique.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me.”

“I have never made fun of anyone in my whole life.”

Blaine playfully punched his arm, which earned him a laugh. They had fun exploring the museum together, even if the subject matter was a bit esoteric, because as it turned out they’d both been cowboy kids and went into in-depth discussion about the sexiest Western leading man (Sebastian was big on Gary Cooper; Blaine believed in the Clint Eastwood classic.)

All through the day, Blaine remained aware of his and Sebastian’s -- aloneness? privacy? solitude? … intimacy?

It wasn’t like it was the first time they’d been alone together, their foursome naturally splitting off into pairs when it came time to explore, but Cooper and Rachel were always within eyesight, or just around the corner. Now it was just them, and the Texan sunset, Daryl noting but not commenting on the absence of space between their touching arms as they came for Kelly. It was just them, driving along the road back to the motel, Sebastian turning on the radio and singing along, his gaze turned out the window in dreamy disconnect.

 _So bye, bye, Miss American Pie_  
_Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry_  
_And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey 'n rye_  
_Singin' this'll be the day that I die_ _  
This'll be the day that I die_ ...

Once they got back to the motel, Blaine parked, then just sat there, staring at the low building. Sebastian reached over, curling a hand over Blaine’s on the wheel.

“Do you want to stay here a while?”

“I …” Blaine looked at their hands, summer tans, Sebastian and his freckles and longer fingers, Blaine’s blunt nails, various pieces of them that really shouldn’t be so close together, should they?

“Blaine?”

“No, I’m okay.” Blaine slid his hand out from under Sebastian’s, turning the headlights off. The dash darkened and they were left with just the barely-lit parking lot in front of them. It would be a new moon soon. “We should nap now, leave in the middle of the night.”

“I’m not that tired,” Sebastian said. “Are you?”

Blaine looked over to him; he could hardly see Sebastian’s eyes, shadowed as they were. A shiver traced down his spine, and he looked back to the windshield.

“Not really, no.”

A silence. Sebastian sighed.

“Let’s leave now. We’ll get to Austin at what, three am? We can pass out then.”

“Okay.” They sat there for nearly a minute; Blaine could almost hear a watch ticking, though he’d removed his ages ago to avoid tan lines. “I’ll pack our room and go check us out, if you can get Cooper and Rachel.”

“Don’t want to face the rabbits?”

“Not really,” Blaine said, laughing. “Besides, Cooper’s probably still mad at me.”

“You _did_ get into a fist fight over a condom.”

“It wasn’t a fist fight. If it was, it would have been over a lot sooner.”

“Alright, Rocky.” Sebastian got up, leaning over to tweak his nose, which Blaine squawk, batting at his hand and fighting a grin. “I’ll go get them.”

Sebastian left, and Blaine finally found the motivation to get up to, heading into their motel room. It wasn’t like they’d really unpacked, so he just gathered up their things, but paused when he saw a sheet of paper on the desk. Was that new? He picked it up, smoothing it out, fingers tracing over the words.

_Blaine --_

_Wake me up if I’m asleep when you get back._

_\-- Sebastian_

He read the dozen words a half dozen times, and then folded the paper carefully, tucking it into his back pocket.

\--

He checked them out. Then, tired, deeply tired, he fell asleep in the loft waiting for everyone else to return.

\--

Someone shook him awake, and Blaine groaned, kicking out; Sebastian chuckled.

“We’re here, Bruce Lee.”

“Is that the genre of my new nicknames?” Blaine asked, rolling over to look at Sebastian, his arms folded casually on the edge of the loft. “Action movies?”

Sebastian only smiled at him, eyebrows raised, and Blaine had to smile too. “Okay, okay, I’m up.”

When he came down the ladder Sebastian was there, “helping him” which was more like feeling him up, getting his hands on Blaine’s waist to tug him back into his chest. Sebastian hugged him, arms looped around him, and Blaine sighed, eyes shutting and leaning back into his secure hold. The last (and first) time they’d hugged had been when Sebastian had agreed to help with his proposal …

_“I hope you know you deserve to be happy, Blaine. I hope you know you deserve the best, and I hope you know when you have it.”_

Blaine wanted to trust himself, despite all evidence to the contrary.

“C’mon.” Sebastian finally said. “Don’t you want to see Austin?”

“Isn’t it like, three am?”

Sebastian turned them around. Finally facing some windows, Blaine saw the spill of dawn light coming in, which he hadn’t registered below the bright ceiling lights.

“We got a hotel, but check-in wasn’t until eleven, so we decided to just camp out in the RV.”

“I didn’t realize I’d slept that long. You could have …”

“I wanted to let you sleep.”

Blaine fell quiet, thinking of the note, and then nodded. “Thank you.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I’ll let you change. We’re going to walk around the city before it gets godawful hot.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad …”

Sebastian gave him a disbelieving look, then left Kelly. Blaine got dressed, snagging a hat and a granola bar before he left, and exited the RV to find they were in the hotel parking lot. Cooper and Rachel were nowhere to be seen, but Sebastian was leaning against Kelly, tapping at his phone.

“Where are Cooper and Rachel?”

“Getting a map from the lobby.” Sebastian tucked his phone away. “You know, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Cooper doesn’t seem mad.”

“Then it’s the next step in older brother superiority: feeling smug that he’s better than me.”

“I’ll never get this sibling thing.”

“I always felt the Warblers were like brothers.” Blaine joined Sebastian in leaning against the RV, watching the sky get steadily brighter. He began to unwrap the bar, the tearing sound loud in the otherwise quiet parking lot. “You didn’t feel that?”

“I think there’s a difference between a brotherhood and actual family.”

“True,” Blaine admitted. When Kurt had pitched the New Directions to him, he’d made a big focus on the _family_ aspect. He’d never felt at home with the Warblers, and Blaine had seen that, but he’d been helpless on how to fix it -- you either were a Warbler or you weren’t. Blaine had left the Warblers (and they had, with a slushie and stealing setlists, left him) but it had been a long time before he felt like he fit into the New Directions, and even in his real family’s most dysfunctional moments they’d never come close to how fractured the Glee club could get. Maybe it was just the performer in all of them, a sort of relentless drive to create drama and excitement -- but that same drive meant they also liked to bare their souls, make connections through music and movement that they’d never find anywhere else. Maybe not a family, but something … transformative.

In the end, Blaine would never give up his experience with either the Warblers or the New Directions for anything.

“Finally.” Sebastian was nodding at Cooper and Rachel, who approached, Rachel with a large map unfolded before her. Cooper gave Blaine an expressionless side-eye, and Blaine sighed around a mouthful of granola.

“Austin is _massive_ ,” Rachel announced.

“Yeah, I knew a massive Austin once …” Sebastian said, and Blaine choked on his granola. Grinning, Sebastian slapped him on his back. Cooper made an impatient noise.

“Well, we have hours before we can check in, so let’s go.”

\--

Austin wasn’t a walking city, and godawful hot to boot, in a way that gripped your lungs.

They gave up soon enough, returning to their hotel for check-in and breakfast, and only when they were freshly watered did they decide to try it again. It proved the right thing to do: between all the greenery, and the Colorado River glittering in the sun, and the still purely-Texan elements among the hipster crowds -- it was like a careful architect had wondered how to combine two extremes of Americana together, West meets South; he even saw “Keep Austin Weird” stickers, which made him laugh and reach for his camera. The real highlight was definitely the music, finding countless venues advertising everything you could imagine -- it was easy to see why it was called the Live Music Capital of the World.

So it was only natural that in between admiring the lovely capitol building and checking out the shopping and the large bridge and everything else Austin boasted, they ended up stopping to watch street performers and getting last minute tickets for an indie band medley thing for that night. Until then they stopped by the Zilker Botanical Garden, where Blaine got Rachel -- who, at least, seemed to not have anything against him over last night -- to act as a model, photographing her amongst the beautiful flowers to add some character and dimension. They also checked out the Mexican Art Museum, and despite having not at all paid for the actor’s camp currently happening inside, managed to talk their way into the Paramount Theatre just to take a quick tour, smiling as they watched a gaggle of drama students on the stage practise their primal screams.

“That was a nice thing about NYADA,” Rachel observed quietly, as they leaned against the mezzanine railing, admiring the beautiful, gold-and-red theatre interior. “Getting to do things like that.”

“Yeah.” Blaine rested his chin on his hands. “Remember Monsieur Alain?”

“Who on earth is that?” Sebastian asked.

“Marcel Marceau’s illegitimate son!” Rachel said, offended. “He teaches master classes in mime … ness.”

“I’ve heard about him,” Cooper said. “They say he once killed a man by tricking him into thinking the invisible box around him was real, and cutting off his oxygen.”

Rachel nodded seriously. Sebastian turned to give them a disbelieving look.

“He told me I had real promise,” Blaine said. “I thought about being a mime for a while.”

“Like you could ever stop talking, Squirt.”

“And we’d miss your voice,” Sebastian added, nudging Blaine. “What’s the world without a regular Blaine Anderson serenade?”

Rachel nodded in agreement. “It’s a shame you never got to do a Midnight Madness, Blaine. That would have been delightful.”

“Midnight Madness?”

“Like a vocal fight club,” Blaine explained. “Two performers enter, one leaves with bragging rights and the other is shunned.”

“Kurt and I duked it out one year -- our greatest diva off.” Rachel flipped her hair. “He won, but I did do a good show of it, I think.”

“He said you were wonderful,” Blaine said. Rachel beamed.

“I suppose the event, for June Dolloway, that was sort of like that, for you …” she mused.

“I actually know that name,” Sebastian said. “The rich old broad who had a threesome with Frank Sinatra and Gregory Peck. An inspiration, honestly.”

“Can you believe she once called to talk to Blaine and Blaine hung up on her?” Cooper asked, tsking. Blaine rolled his eyes.

“What?” Sebastian eyebrows went up. “Seriously?”

“She made a project of Blaine,” Rachel said. “It was … exciting.”

Blaine looked to her, and she didn’t meet his gaze, making a show of examining her hands. He didn't want to know what she'd heard, seen, intuited.

“And you _hung up_ on her?”

Blaine stared down at the students; they were so hopeful. “I didn’t feel like hearing a lecture.”

“I mean --”

“Please drop it,” Blaine said, straightening abruptly. “Come on, we should go, we have more to see.”

He was fairly certain all three of them were exchanging looks behind his back, and Blaine ignored them. If you wanted a kind shoulder to cry on about a break up, June Dolloway was the absolute last person you should turn to, particularly when she’d already expressed displeasure with your relationship in the past. He knew she meant well but he hadn’t been able to take her reaming out, each word hitting a little closer to home each time. The book had been a kindness, in comparison.

“We should karaoke!” Rachel was suddenly at his side, grabbing his arm and beaming up at him. “I would like to do some dueling duets with you right now, Blaine Warbler.”

“That sounds great, Rachel.”

\--

Dinner was amazing steak -- naturally -- and then the concert, which was fun.

It had been ages since Blaine had last been to an event like this; Kurt wasn’t much for the concert scene, and the both loved musical theatre so that had taken precedence. But sometimes you just wanted to be in some crowded space, the floor sticky and the ceiling and walls crowded in graffiti, anonymous yet connected in a lively crowd that sang and jumped and danced along in a writhing mass. The line up was great, the alcohol too expensive, and Sebastian stood behind him, hands on his hips and moving together, no words needed about their earlier exchange.

Afterwards, ears ringing, they wandered back out onto 6th street. It was still early, just about ten, so they headed for a karaoke bar next, a place lit up in neon lettering and with an odd “medieval coat of arms” theme on the wall art. They settled in, ordering a flurry of drinks and booking more than a few spots on the evening roster -- and it was a Friday night, so the place was busy. Still, people forgave their stage hogging; Cooper and Rachel’s version of _Elephant Love Medley_ got the appropriate mix of laughter, cheers, and coos of delight it deserved. Sebastian got Blaine up there with a version of -- Blaine had laughed -- _Uptown Girl_ , during which Blaine made sure to throw lots of winks at the girls in the audience, because well, he was a performer and they _were_ in Texas and he liked feeling safe. What really surprised him was when Cooper agreed to Rachel’s urging that he and Blaine just _had_ to wow the audience with their mash-up, and they’d managed to convince the karaoke overseer that they should be allowed to do a little a capella for everyone.

Blaine and Cooper could do their Duran Duran mash up in their sleep, probably, but it never got old -- each time he was up there, performing it for someone, he was five years old again, and his big brother was finally willing to spend time with him.

The last pair of their group to perform for the evening was Sebastian and Rachel, much to his surprise. Blaine leaned back in his seat, watching how they interacted on stage, doing a rather charming version of _We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together_ (he didn’t ask about the song choice. A fair amount of alcohol had been consumed that evening.) Sebastian was his usual teasing self, toying with Rachel’s hair -- the wig still foregone as long as the were anywhere that might be classified on the ‘really, _really_ hot’ spectrum -- and Rachel giggled and played in return, dramatically faking a sob at one point to which Sebastian replied by lifting his shirt up to dab at her face, baring his toned torso.

(Blaine was certain he wasn’t the only one in the bar who appreciated that view.)

When they finally stumbled out of there, exhausted, they hailed a cab -- then bailed out halfway through, stomachs rumbling. They piled into a Sonic’s, eating the kind of happy-making food that only tasted good while buzzed or above. And then there was a twenty-four hour supermarket nearby so they decided to stock up for Kelly, and Blaine wasn’t sober enough to be responsible about their purchases this time.

So what if that giant steak wouldn’t fit on their tiny stove-top and cost about an arm and a leg? He would make a damn good stir fry with it. Totally worth it.

Another cab, food put away in Kelly, then up to their rooms. Exhausted and feet aching, his hurts from the desert acting up, Blaine couldn’t even think of showering, just collapsing face first onto his bed with a happy sigh. Sebastian joined him, dropping an arm over Blaine’s waist, groaning as he stretched out.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I hate walking.”

“Me too.” Blaine yawned. “Let’s buy roller skates.”

“You’d look so hot in roller skates …”

“You think I look hot in everything.”

“You _do_ look hot in everything …” Sebastian mumbled something else sleepily to himself that Blaine didn’t catch.

“You look hot in everything too,” Blaine said quietly back.

Sebastian smiled, but didn’t say anything in return, and they fell asleep like that, fully clothed on top of the covers, the A/C cranked up and its soft whir the only other noise other than their easy breathing.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: Cat Power's _[Cherokee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4_Mww_XVU1s)_ , Don McLean's _[American Pie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAsV5-Hv-7U)_ , and *deep breath for the karaoke section* Moulin Rouge's _[Elephant Love Medley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uEKI83zN0Dg)_ , (though it need no introduction to our fandom!) Billy Joel's _[Uptown Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-0Oect0nVQ)_ , Glee's _[Hungry Like the Wolf/Rio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ynnVZEiZJM0)_ , and Taylor Swift's _[We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WA4iX5D9Z64)_.
> 
> The statue Seb and Blaine cozy up with is [THIS ONE](http://www.rgusrail.com/album/txcbq4994/center_05.jpg).


	9. the silence, before

“Houston, Texas baby,” Cooper drawled as the sign came into view. “Home of the … Texans.”

“I want to see the Space Centre!” Blaine announced, shutting his laptop and putting away.

“I want to go _swimming_ ,” Rachel said. “It’s so hot and we haven’t done it since Utah!”

“Doesn’t Houston have some kind of like, giant water park?” Sebastian asked. “We should hit that up.”

“Space Center, water park, and then museums or something.” Blaine pulled out his phone to look places up. “Oh, I can’t wait.”

“And here I thought you were a cowboy kid, not a space kid,” Sebastian said.

“What’s with these ridiculous binaries society has to put us in? I wanted to be a cowboy in _space_.” Blaine beamed as he imagined it. “Well, technically, I was going to be a rock star doctor cowboy in space who married George Clooney.”

“I believe you can do anything you put your mind to,” Sebastian assured him, patting his hand.

“I always wanted to be a star,” Rachel said. “I never had much care for anything other than a career in the performing arts.”

“I wanted to be a horse,” Cooper said. “When I was five. Then I realized I belonged in an urban city center, with as many people as possible admiring me, so I decided to become an actor.”

Blaine smiled at the familiar story, then looked expectantly at Sebastian, who grinned a bit sheepishly.

“I wanted to be the President of the United States of America.”

Blaine lay his chin on his hand, expression fond. “I can see that.”

“You should do it!” Rachel said, eyes wide. “I can sing at your inauguration!”

“Do you really think, fifteen years from now, America will be ready for a gay president?”

“Hey, we’ve already had Buchanan,” Cooper pointed out.

“An _openly_ gay president, then.”

“I’d vote for you,” Blaine said. “I’m sure you’d be a very divisive leader of state.”

“Who wouldn’t love bullying congress into line?”

“We need to think of your campaign slogan …”

None of the ideas they came up were good enough, but it was fun regardless.

\--

After getting their hotel for the evening, they headed to the Space Center; tickets were a bit steep and Cooper complained that there wasn’t enough stuff, but Blaine enjoyed himself thoroughly, bouncing from room to room, checking out the various artifacts from space missions and learning new things. Easily the best thing there was the reconstruction of a shuttlecraft from _Star Trek_ , that Blaine made sure to get a lot of pictures in front of doing the Vulcan hand sign; for the first time, he really felt that he should be uploading to his Instagram with his trip. Who wouldn’t want to see that? He thought that over as he and Sebastian wandered into the Destiny Hall, in which there was a lectern from Kennedy’s address about wanting a moon landing, and Blaine nudged Sebastian with a grin.

“Imagine giving your own speech. ‘We will get to Mars under my presidency …’ Can you imagine?”

“Will you have become a rock star doctor cowboy in space by then so I can assign you to the away mission?”

“I will, but I don’t know, George might miss me terribly if I went …”

“He’d be proud to see you be the first man on Mars. Any reasonable husband would be.”

Blaine blinked up at him. “I guess -- yeah, that’s true.”

“Of course it is.” Sebastian looked back at the lectern. “I know this’ll seem like a weird idea to you, but I can’t imagine what having a husband would be like.”

“Do you want to get married?”

“Not particularly. First off, it’s not even legal yet. I wouldn’t settle for second best. And secondly … I guess I’ve never seen the point.”

“The point? You’re vowing to spend the rest of your life with someone you love.”

“And I need state recognition of the fact? For an institution, which, let’s face it, was never meant to be about love or it wouldn’t treat women like commodities. I mean, christ, who was going to walk down the aisle at your wedding? Doesn’t that stuff bother you?’

“No.” Blaine tucked his hands into his pockets, voice sure. “I think it’s what we make of it.”

“Maybe I just think too much about that making of it.”

“Are you implying I’m unthinking on the matter?”

“No,” Sebastian sighed. “Just that for you, it’s what you want. For me … I’m not saying I’m morally opposed to monogamy, just to the idea that you need some kind of outside approval, especially a governmental one, for the choice.”

“I think it’s nice, letting everyone know how in love you are.”

“People know when you’re in love Blaine. You’re not very subtle.”

“That doesn’t hurt me.”

“It wasn’t an insult.” Sebastian laughed a little. “You’re just a good boyfriend. A classic romantic.”

Blaine smiled at that, wide and free. “Thank you.”

Sebastian smiled back, smaller but genuine. “Anytime.”

They continued to stare at the lectern, and then Blaine observed, maybe a little too casually: “A president should be married.”

“Should they?”

“Yeah.”

“Have they decided what they call it when the First Lady is a guy? Bill chipped in, didn’t he?”

“First Laddie?”

“First Lad? First Mate? First Man?”

“First Gentleman? That’s what they did in the Philippines.”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

“Very Dalton-esque.”

“God.” Sebastian groaned. “I just imagined myself like a sick Henry Harrison and the Warblers all gathering at my bedside to sing me to my death. Promise to shoot me before I die to the tune of ‘Star Spangled Banner.’”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’d sing one of _your_ classics.”

“I have classics?”

“Oh sure. 'Live While You’re Young' .... or would that be too ironic? How about 'Glad You Came'?”

“I’d be okay with that, actually.”

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind then, Mr. President.”

“My official executor of my final wishes, then?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Wouldn’t ask it of anyone else.”

Sebastian gave him a friendly nudge to cap it off, and Blaine nearly asked about the note.

Nearly.

\--

After the Space Center, they walked around Houston a little, taking in the sights. The city almost felt futuristic, in the sharp angles of its tall shiny buildings, the sleek metro trains, and its funky and gorgeous stepped park. Blaine took a lot of pictures, of beautiful murals and parks decorated with hanging orbs, every little unique thing he could find. Truthfully, all of Texas was really not as he’d always pictured, but Houston might take the cake in that regard. He could have explored longer, but Rachel insisted on the water park -- and in the day’s heat, he was keen to agree -- and there was one just a half hour away with great reviews, so they jumped in Kelly and made the drive up.

“Wet ‘n’ Wild,” Sebastian observed as he drove. “Sounds kind of inappropriate, doesn’t it?”

“You’ve just got a dirty mind,” Rachel told him loftily. “I, for one, cannot wait to get wet and wild.” Cooper made an interested sound, and Rachel pouted. “Okay, maybe that does sound a little wrong …”

The water park was a large, sprawling complex, a watery oasis in the middle of a green spread, and the perfect solution to the oppressive Texan heat. They bought day passes, rented lockers, and got changed quickly, sunscreen getting slathered on before they headed out to the array of pools and slides. Rachel grabbed Blaine, insisting he had to go down one of the two-person tube slides with her, and so they climbed very high up, joining a short line. Rachel peered out over the expanse of the park, grinning. “I’ve never been to waterpark before,” she told Blaine.

“What? Not even as a kid?”

“My dads were more of a ‘constructive hobbies’ types.”

Blaine slapped his forehead. “Oh, god. Rachel. Burt asked me a few days ago -- your dads are worried. They want you to call them.”

Rachel nodded. “They texted me, said Burt had spoken to them.” She smiled at him. “It’s okay. I know there was a lot on your mind.”

“Did you call them?”

Rachel bit her lip. “Texted. To say I was safe. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to call.”

Blaine sighed. “Yeah, I get that.”

“You guys are up.” They looked over, and the bored worker helped them into their inner tube. Rachel grabbed Blaine’s hand, grinning widely, and then they were launched down the slide, water rushing loudly, tube shaking and bouncing and sliding up and down the walls, and he and Rachel were whooping and laughing in delight, spluttering around the spray and hands tightly wound together. It was over far too soon, as they shot out into the destination pool, spinning in lazy circles until they bumped gently against the opposite wall. A worker helped them out, and Rachel grabbed Blaine into a spontaneous hug once they were upright.

“That was amazing!” She pulled away, her bun bobbing as she nodded in excitement. “You know what? We can do anything, Blaine. I’m going to call my dads tonight!”

“That’s great, Rachel!”

“We can do anything,” she repeated, squeezing his hands. “ _You_ can do anything.”

“I can.” Blaine hadn’t sure whether to phrase that as a question, or a joke, so it came out oddly … even. He thought of Phillipa’s words: _There’s a difference between a support system and codependency. You’re allowed to reach out to people; you’re allowed to have emotional needs._ He shook his head. “Come on, I want to do that giant slide, I think I saw something that said it was over five stories high …”

After the slide they found Sebastian and Cooper again. Cooper was rubbing sunscreen on the back of a cute girl, chattering to her about his film career; Rachel’s eyes narrowed and she stalked over, loudly asking Cooper to join her on the Lazy River. Sebastian, reclining on a chair, shared a smirk with Blaine as a hapless Cooper waved goodbye to the girl and let Rachel drag him off.

“I give them two more weeks,” Sebastian said.

“They might surprise you,” Blaine protested. Off Sebastian’s look, he added, “A month. They’re both too stubborn to just give up.”

“It’s going to be a hell of a split.”

“I know.” Blaine sat down on the end of Sebastian’s chair, frowning. “But I want to remain optimistic that things will work out.”

“We can be optimistic and still plan for the worst, right?”

“We can.”

“In which case, we have to decide now who will comfort who. Minimize time spent in emotional tornadoes.”

“I can take Rachel.”

“No, no, you should take Cooper. I think you’re the only one who can get him to actually express a human emotion,” Sebastian said. “I’ll take Rachel.”

Blaine nodded at that -- he and Cooper would doubtlessly have made up yet again by this possible break up -- then pointed out,“You two seem friendly lately.”

Much to his surprise, Sebastian almost looked shy at that. “She’s very forgiving,” Sebastian said, and then groaned, stretching in a way that pulled his tight, long muscles even longer. “Ugh. Here I am, happy that Rachel Berry might approve of me. My life’s in shambles.”

“It’s not in shambles. You’re going to become president, remember?”

“Really? Because I’ll never make office if I tan my life away.”

“Then let’s go swimming, Mr. President.”

\--

After the waterpark, where they tried everything out, they changed and drove back to the city.

They had an early dinner, ravenous as they were, deciding to eat in the Downtown Aquarium restaurant before checking out he exhibits. The aquarium had everything from alligators to pythons to the usual shark and fish and they wandered for a while, ending up in the discovery zone where you could pet rays and the like. (Blaine wanted to pretend he hadn't jumped a little at the first touch of the ray's strange skin, but he totally did.) After that they went to the infamous Galleria, continuing their cool-off attempts by getting on the year-round indoor ice rink underneath the bright curved skylight, Blaine and Rachel challenging each other to increasingly elaborate tricks, while Sebastian and Cooper acted as judges (both were deeply biased, which left him and Rachel in a tie; they accepted it, holding hands and bowing to applause.) Then, they went to do some shopping; Sebastian got a new bowtie for Blaine, an adorable one in pale green with a pattern of little blue armadillos.

“You know, you have good taste in bowties, Sebastian,” Blaine said as he tried it on. Sebastian laughed.

“All that time spent figuring out what you liked paid off.” Sebastian flicked the bowtie. “Now come on, I think I saw Cooper eyeing _another_ leather jacket.”

“Oh no.”

Clubbing rounded off their evening -- it amused him that he was becoming quite the connoisseur of the nightlife scene from coast to coast -- and then finished off with a late night ice cream shop’s treats as they wandered back to their hotel. Sebastian kept sending him these heated looks, like the humid evening was filling him up inside, and Blaine grinned around his ice cream, giving a deliberate, slow lick because it was silly and sexy and he was having _fun_. Real, unadulterated fun, energy pounding in his veins like it did during a particularly good performance, the high-key thrum of the universe he could find so much easier when he was on an upswing. He believed in the fabric of creation even if he didn’t really believe in a creator and feeling like he was part of it again, not some cut scrap dangling by a thread, made him almost reckless.

He accepted it; he wanted to live wildly; he wanted to live, full stop.

Back at their hotel room, Sebastian kissed him, caught up in Blaine’s mood who was caught up in his, an endless renewal with each touch or look they shared; Blaine kissed back, hands sliding up under Sebastian’s tee and scratching gently along his abs, throat bobbing as Sebastian undid his bowtie and sent it fluttering to the ground. Inspiration struck, and Blaine pushed Sebastian away with a teasing grin, sending him backing up to the bed until Sebastian sat down on it, looking up at Blaine with a small smile that was so gently incongruous with how he was unbuckling Blaine’s belt.

“I was just thinking …” Blaine said, grin widening, “That if you were president right now, I would be your Marilyn.”

Something flickered across Sebastian’s face, layers collapsing into some kind of singularity of focus in a second, and then his smile slowly widened.

“Is that so?”

“So let’s pretend it’s your birthday.” Blaine knelt on the floor between Sebastian’s spread knees. "And I get to sing you a song.”

Sebastian leaned back on his hands, and murmured, “Go ahead.”

Blaine grinned, and then started with:

“Happy Birthday, Mr. President …”

\--

Early next morning, they finally set out for New Orleans.

They stopped for lunch in Baton Rouge, checking out the Louisiana capitol building (“Is it just me,” Sebastian asked, squinting at it, “Or is that a bit phallic?”) and admiring the change in architecture, in atmosphere. It was already so different from what they’d left behind, the lazy low stretch of the Mississippi river evoked in everything from the twisting trees to the country-style buildings. They were feeling the Louisiana air as they finished up their drive down to New Orleans, the radio set to a jazz station, the up-and-down tinkle of the keys harmonizing with a trumpet to make all their toes tap. This was the birthplace of American music; it was hard to not want to get up and sing and dance. Cooper was in an odd mood -- not really excited, but driving with unusual focus, eyes forward and mouth in a line, not even distracted by Rachel hugging him from behind to kiss his cheek.

“So where’s our first stop?” Blaine asked Cooper as a road sign announced they were at the pull off for New Orleans.

“Hotel, then the hotel bar for some Hurricanes --”

“I’d like a mint julep,” Rachel said.

“Okay, hotel, hotel bar for some Hurricanes and a mint julep, then I say we have some fun in the French Quarter.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, we’re going to spend at least two or three days in the Big Easy, right? We have time to look around …”

“Cooper, you nearly destroyed Kelly trying to get here!”

“I didn’t destroy her. I drove her, and she _liked_ it.”

(Rachel huffed.)

“I had to fix her with duct tape in the middle of the Texan desert, your point is irrelevant,” Blaine said. “You’ve been so anxious to get here! What’s the big deal?”

“I like Cajun cooking.”

“That can’t be it --”

“It is. I’m saying it is. So lay off, Nancy Drew.”

Blaine glared at Cooper, then headed to the back of the RV, using the excuse of rearranging the fridge to avoid Cooper (their chaotic drunken fridge-packing had left a mess) and was busy trying to find a new way to fit the giant steak when Sebastian came over, settling next to him.

“That’s one big hunk of meat.”

Blaine sent him a look, laughing. “I love that I can’t tell what you’re talking about, you pervert.”

“I’m a man of mystery, it’s true.”

“And here I always found your transparent.”

“Yet you still missed the most obvious things.”

Blaine’s smile quieted at that, looking back at the fridge and shoving the steak in place. “We should eat that soon.”

“We’ll find a good home cook, pay her to make us a family dish.”

“You can’t pay for something like that. You need to be invited.”

“I’m never been invited to anything like that.”

“You’re too rich and white,” Blaine told him, patting his knee. “I hope your privilege comforts you from the shock.”

“It’s a small comfort, but I’ll take it.”

Blaine murmured to him, “There’s nothing small about what you have.” His grin was met with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Now who’s the pervert?”

“We’re perverts together,” Blaine said, and leaned back, pressing their sides together.

“I can live with that.”

They shared a smile, and then Blaine got back to putting asparagus away.

\--

Their hotel was charming, probably the most unique one they’d been in since Las Vegas; it wasn’t any kind of family chain, but a French Quarter boutique hotel, yellow walls and black wrought iron work everywhere, and an inner courtyard with a white fountain. They were definitely paying for the experience of the Hotel Mazarin -- valet parking alone for the RV was forty bucks a night -- but the energy of nearby Bourbon Street and the honey warm quality that the city had made them happy to shell out. They’d just had to settle for a single room with two doubles, but it was so comfortable they didn’t complain, Cooper disappearing to take a shower while Sebastian answered a phone call. Rachel and Blaine leaned against their balcony which overlooked the courtyard; down below, people were eating early dinners, the chatter pleasant and low.

“I’m really happy,” Rachel said, voice quiet. “I kind of never want to go home.”

“Yeah …” Blaine had no idea where he’d be, end of summer. “Where do you think home is?”

Rachel flinched at the question, looking down.

“I don’t know ..." Her voice got quieter. “I liked L.A., I love New York. I don’t want to go back to Lima.”

“Then New York seems like the obvious answer.”

“But doing what? Should I reapply to NYADA? Try another school? Or go right back into auditioning? Would anywhere even want me with _That’s So Rachel_ haunting me?”

“You stopped wearing your disguise a week ago, nobody’s recognized you. It really wasn’t that bad or that big a deal.”

“So I’m forgettable _and_ part of the worst TV show ever?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that …” Blaine reached over, grabbing her hand. “Don’t you remember what we said the other day? We can do anything.”

“And what are you going to do? You have so much talent, Blaine. The world deserves to see it.”

“I’m not reapplying to NYADA, that’s for sure.” Blaine had crawled on his knees after enough things in life that had been happy to reject him -- it was a habit he intended to start breaking. “But I kind of want to go back to school. I like learning. I like expanding my horizons, trying new things.”

“What about June?”

“Jumping straight into performing … it was nice, but it felt like I was cheating, you know? I want to work for it. I always have.”

Not that anybody believed that. Blaine liked to keep his effort away from prying eyes, present only a polished finished product.

“Some performers are given extra advantage because they’re better. You shouldn’t feel bad about that.”

“And if June changes her mind, withdraws her support, I crash and burn and I don’t have the credits to my name to establish myself again?”

“So what if you become me, is what you’re saying?”

“I … yes, I kind of am,” Blaine said. Rachel’s face fell. “I’m not saying you can’t come back from this, Rachel. You’re like a phoenix. Nothing keeps you down. I’ve … had a lot going on. I’d like to avoid another huge disappointment. I don’t know how … if … I could handle it.”

“If I’m a phoenix, so are you.” Rachel turned her hand over in his, squeezing his thumb and shaking it lightly. “We’re both going to come back from this, bigger and better than before.”

“So that’s a deal? We’ll shake on it?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Anderson.” Rachel turned and Blaine turned with her, and their hand hold turned into a formal handshake grip.

“Then here’s to our future success, Ms. Berry.”

They shook, and then Sebastian called from inside the hotel, “Come on you two. I want gumbo.”

Blaine took Rachel by the arm, and they went out to join their companions.

_\--_

If he had to describe New Orleans in one word, it would be: alive.

Not the make-it-or-break-it bustling energy of New York, maybe, because the name Big Easy did hold true, in the way people spoke, the ambling of the streets, even in the lazy buzz of flies and the music that poured out past painted window frames, inviting curious listeners to enjoy, to feel what they felt. But this city had undergone a great personal tragedy and had come back, was still coming back, and in that resilience was an energy that you didn’t find just anywhere. It was also steeped in culture, a self-made one, and that led to perpetual creation, and the streets thrived with it, in every colourful building and line of balconies, the street performers and the food and the people.

Despite Sebastian’s pleas for gumbo, they decided to wander around, take in the city. They started in the French Quarter, where their hotel was, admiring and photographing the city, taking a selfie at the iconic corner of Royal and St. Peter Streets.

“You know, it’s funny, despite the name the place doesn’t look all that French …” Sebastian said, when Blaine stopped them for about the thirtieth time to capture a riotous flow of red flowers out of a painted flowerpot on someone’s balcony. “But you can still feel the French influence.”

Rachel looked at him. “You’ve been to France, right?”

“My mom’s from there. I’ve been visiting at least once a year every year since she moved back.”

“Moved back?”

“After the divorce.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“It was years ago.” Sebastian shrugged. “No big deal.”

“I mean, still …”

“If you want to baby someone about that, why not Blaine?”

Rachel looked over. “Your parents are getting divorced?”

“They’ve been separated for years. They’re just making it official now.” Blaine kept himself hidden behind his camera, taking a few steps to the right and bumping into Cooper, who shoved him off.

“Cooper, you never mentioned --”

“Why would I? It’s not my dad, so not technically my parents. Hell, mom never even married _my_ dad.”

“I …” Rachel made a quiet sound. “I’m sorry.”

“Aw, Rachel, cheer up,” Sebastian said. “Welcome to the millennial life. All our parents are realizing they don’t need to be married anymore.”

“But doesn’t that bother you? You’re a product of their love. Without it ...”

“I still exist. They still love me. But you know, your parents are people too. They’re not just there to make your life easier.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say!”

Blaine looked over at Rachel’s angry words, lowering the camera. Even Cooper seemed startled, ceasing his texting, and Sebastian tucked his hands into his pocket, head tilting to the side.

“My apologies?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Rachel shook out her hair, then stalked off down the street, narrowly avoiding bumping into other pedestrians. Cooper stared after her.

“What’s her problem?”

“Why don’t you go ask?” Blaine replied. “She is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

“Whoa, I’ve never used the g-word.”

“Fine then! She’s your sex friend!” Blaine snapped, and maybe the fact that he and Cooper were still sporting bruises they’d given each other was what made his nerves fray in that instant. “You can still consider how she’s feeling and _go talk to her_.”

Cooper gave him a light shove, which felt somewhat friendly, then went to do that. Sebastian joined Blaine, looking rather perturbed. “Was it something I said? Normally I know when I’m being an asshole, but …”

“Rachel’s very passionate. It’s probably nothing.”

“Then let’s get gumbo.”

“How are you always hungry?”

“I’m a growing boy.” Sebastian smirked down at him. “I can see why you’d be unfamiliar with the concept.”

“And _now_ you’re being an asshole.”

“What? No judgement. You know how hard I am for you.”

“Sebastian …” Blaine laughed, ducking his chin.

“I can show you, if you like. The hotel room’s free.”

“I thought you were hungry.”

“The only thing I am more often than hungry is horny.”

“You’re very in tune with your lizard brain.”

Sebastian stepped closer, spreading the tips of his fingers against Blaine’s hip. “I am.”

“Well then …” Blaine gave him a cheeky smile. “Let’s go get some gumbo.”

Sebastian laughed, and tugged on Blaine's belt loop, pulling him along.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: Blaine's rendition of Happy Birthday is, of course, a reference to Marilyn Monroe's _[Happy Birthday Mr. President](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vg5HIMnPx7k)_.
> 
> The bowtie Seb gets Blaine is [HERE](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0801/0325/products/BT-ARMD-5_1024x1024.jpeg). The iconic corner of Royal & St. Peter streets in New Orleans pictured [HERE](http://www.asergeev.com/pictures/archives/2006/521/jpeg/10.jpg).


	10. you knew that i was free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, folks. had a whole whiny paragraph as to why but realized no1curr, but suffice to say, things are a bit hectic for me right now.
> 
>  **warnings** for the chapter include one more punch, again of the moment of passion variety. some mentions of the sadie hawkins incident (nothing more graphic than the show's summary) and hospitals.

Cooper and Rachel rejoined them at the restaurant, and Rachel seemed brighter.

Maybe it was because Cooper kept an arm around the back of her chair, occasionally leaning in to whisper things in her ear that made her smile and giggle. More likely it was because they’d had a very important talk in that half hour they were missing, because at one point Cooper turned to the waiter and loudly announced, “My _girlfriend_ would like a napkin.” The Irish accent was off-putting but the sentiment was sweet, and Blaine nearly choked on his water. As he’d hidden his coughing behind a napkin, he’d watched how Rachel bit her lip and looked … content. If Blaine had played any small part in getting Cooper to see Rachel as more than just a hobby, then he was grateful. It was also nice to see the potential in Cooper, the attentive big brother with capacity for empathy.

 _“You really think I’m a terrible big brother, don’t you?”_ In truth, Blaine did. In truth, he knew that he was the reason communication had ceased between them; had been disappointed so often he’d slipped between the cracks of their continental drift and shoved them further apart. He couldn’t tell if things were fixed between them; surely being reunited would have a definite click.

He had to make steps himself. He had to apologize for his part in their desert brawl, because he knew if he waited for Cooper to say something first he’d die unfulfilled. So after the restaurant, as they began an easy stroll to window shop, Blaine pulled Cooper aside, who sent a reluctant look at Rachel admiring a set of heels in a shop window.

“I don’t want to leave Rachel. She’s kind of dealing with something,” he stage whispered.

Blaine glanced at Rachel, curious, then shook his head.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For the fight,” Blaine said. "I didn't mean for it to ... escalate, like that."

Cooper stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment, then broke into a smile. He sounded already easy with forgiveness when he spoke. “Not like it’s the first time. Remember that time you broke my finger?”

“I was _five!_ It was an accident!"

“And probably why I lost the lead in Hamlet.”

“You laughed all during your audition scene! It was _Ophelia’s funeral!_ ”

“It was adding ironic pathos.”

“I …” Blaine shook his head. “Sure, Cooper. Look. I just wanted to apologize, okay?”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s not a big deal. Brothers fight, right?” Cooper slung an arm around him, lightly punching Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine gave a small smile at that.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. Good talk.” Cooper patted his back, once, twice, then headed over to Rachel’s side. He said something that made her lightly slap his arm as she threw back her head to laugh, and he slipped a hand around her waist, their matching grins blinding. They really could be a movie star couple. A couple, period. Blaine missed that. He missed the comfort of it, the support, the pride, the way the knowledge of having someone, belonging to someone, could turn the most routine into the remarkable.

“Blaine!” Rachel waved a hand at him, as she and Cooper had wandered off a distance. Blaine shook his thoughts away and looked for Sebastian. He wasn’t hard to spot, familiar tall figure angled over a stoop, bumming a smoke off an elderly gentleman with a shock of white hair waxed into two curls on his chin. Blaine joined them as Sebastian handed the guy a twenty and said, “ _Merci_.”

The man tipped his sailor’s cap back, and Sebastian tucked the cigarette behind his ear. He smiled at Blaine, nudging him as they wandered to follow behind Cooper and Rachel, who were slowly moving down the street.

“Are you really going to smoke that?” Blaine asked.

“Why not? It’s the Big Easy. It seems appropriate.”

“It’s not very healthy.”

“Which is why I only allow myself one a year. I’ve got enough bad habits, they don’t need the competition.”

“I’ve never kissed a guy who smokes before …” Blaine gave him a once over. “It’s got a very James Dean vibe on you.”

“'Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today?'”

Blaine smirked, sliding an arm around Sebastian’s waist. “I always did have a crush on Mr. Dean …”

“Are you telling me if I put on a leather jacket I’ll get lucky?”

“Can you?” Blaine’s eyes widened. “That would be really hot, actually.”

“I’ll buy one today. Or, just borrow one of Cooper’s, he’s got enough to clothe a whole horde of male models.”

“Don’t wear my brother’s clothes.” Blaine pulled a face. “That’s weird.”

Sebastian grinned. “Then let’s go shopping, babe.” Blaine ducked his chin at that, blushing.

 _Babe_. He used to just think of the many, many things Sebastian liked to call him as nicknames, like Blainey Days or Squirt, familiar and friendly. But he wondered if now, in their unintentional, untrying parallels to Cooper and Rachel's new couplehood, if they might qualify as petnames. He wondered further, as he watched Sebastian patiently try on jackets, letting Blaine pick things out and tug his collar straight, if they hadn't been petnames all along.

It was monumental, but unfounded, and Blaine could only back Sebastian into the changeroom when he'd found the perfect jacket and kiss him thoroughly.

After shopping was done -- Rachel got a new dress as well, that she changed into right at the store, an adorable A-line with polka dots, and Sebastian got Blaine a blue bowtie with little orange-and-white hermit crab pattern, which would be a great addition to his marine life-themed wardrobe collection -- they started checking out more of the Quarter, including Jackson Square, which was centered around a beautiful church and had everything from live music to folk art and palm reading. Sebastian saw Blaine looking and pushed him towards it, but the palmist requested privacy so he'd gone to sit on a bench and watch them. She ran fingers over his hand, this way and that, tracing his heart and life lines, humming to herself. "Your heart line starts low, and curves long and up -- a lover, and a nurturer. State what you need early in a relationship ..." and other pieces of advice, about his energy, and creativity. It was maybe all just clever guesswork and coincidence, but Blaine was fascinated, nodding along with what she said. Afterwards, they all got beignets from the Café du Monde across from the square -- dealing with a long line, but it was definitely worth it, the workers serving with a speed that would make Tiana jealous. As dusk fell they found their way to Bourbon Street, and so a pub crawl began, through jazz bars and blues bars and just regular bars, meeting up with a lovely group of people -- some New Orleans natives, some out of town from Jackson, and one all the way from Alaska, visiting family. They led Blaine and his companions off the main street, no moonlight and just the gas-lamps and their flickering warm light a breadcrumb trail as they navigated the streets. They ended up, after Cooper did an impressive set of runs to the applause of their new friends, at yet another karaoke bar.

Blaine and one of the New Orleans girls, a Bethany, got up to do _Telephone_ , and afterwards she laughed and high-fived him. She insisted on buying him a drink, and Blaine said, as they watched Bethany’s friends do Spice Girls, “I’m gay.”

She laughed. “Join the club.” She had the real New Orleans accent, a pleasant rumble that never sounded hurried. It made for a beautiful singing voice.

“Oh, I --”

“Mé, bisexual. But what? You think every girl wants to do you?” She waved a finger at him. “That’s egotistical, cher.”

Sebastian leaned over, and spoke over Blaine’s shoulder to Bethany: “But everybody _does_ want to do him.”

“Wé, alright,” Bethany said. “I’d do him. But it’s still egotistical.”

“I was just -- trying to clarify!” Blaine protested. Sebastian patted his thigh, and Bethany giggled. “Girls are always asking me out!”

“‘Girls are always asking me out!’” Bethany repeated, tossing her head back and laughing, fro bouncing. Blaine blushed. Okay, that _did_ sound bad. “Why does that not happen to me?!”

“You have to put more sapphic energy out there,” Sebastian said. “Why not let your friendly neighbourhood gays give you a makeover?” Blaine didn’t have to look to know the shit-eating grin Sebastian was wearing.

She gave his popped collar a disbelieving look. “Uh-hmmm, I’m fine.”

“I’m going to sign us up,” Sebastian told her. “We’ve gotta do this.”

“Wi, wi,” she said, reaching over to punch his arm. “Carrie Underwood.”

“What else?” Sebastian replied, standing up and squeezing Blaine’s shoulder before disappearing up to the front to sign them up. Blaine and Bethany chatted a bit more --  and then Blaine got up too, heading for the downstairs washroom. The bathroom was filled with graffiti -- everything from tumblr accounts to names of friends and couples and “forgotten + still strong” and “live fast die young” and a large, eager, “Don’t waste time on anyone who makes you feel hard to love.” He stared at that one while he washed his hands, then grabbed a marker on top of the paper towel dispenser, found a bare scrap of space still available on the low ceiling, and wrote:

_“I’m really happy to be here.”_

Then he headed back outside, startling when he bumped into Sebastian, who steadied him with wandering, but sure hands.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Just checking. You’re sort of tipsy.”

“No, I’m fine --” and then Sebastian tipped him back against the door, kissing him while Blaine’s stomach swooped and he grabbed for the wall, laughter building low in his chest. He tilted his head back as Sebastian kissed his jaw, his neck, and then blinked as he saw Rachel standing at the bottom of the stairs. She was staring at them, and Blaine, still laughing, tapped Sebastian’s shoulder so he’d stop ravishing Blaine.

Sebastian pulled away, smiling at Rachel. “Hey, Berry. Wanna take a picture? I encourage it. Just make sure to send me a copy.”

“I need to use the facilities,” she said, voice small, and Blaine and Sebastian obligingly stepped away from the door, but Rachel didn’t move. She was still staring at them.

“Is something the matter?” Blaine asked.

Rachel took a deep breath, then: “It’s not very conscientious, is it, beginning a sexual relationship under the influence?”

Sebastian and Blaine shared a confused look. “Rachel, this isn’t a new thing …?” He didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but her comment confused him. It wasn’t as if he and Sebastian had been subtle.

“I understand there’s been a flirtation, but --”

“We’ve been screwing since Vegas,” Sebastian said, straightening, voice going a touch cool. “Are you seriously pretending you didn’t know?”

“Blaine never told me,” she said, voice wavering as she fixed Blaine with accusing eyes. “I told him about Cooper and me but he never --”

“I didn’t ask for you to tell me anything!”

“It was a courtesy,” she volleyed back, “because we are _friends!_ ”

“I didn’t realize it was that big a deal!” Blaine had no idea what was happening. He felt trapped by Rachel’s gaze and oddly enough Sebastian’s; it made him retreat, uncomfortable, to the wall. He crossed his arms. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but I didn’t withhold information deliberately. I thought you knew.”

“We’ve literally been sharing a bed for a week now, that didn’t make you go ‘hmm’?” Sebastian shifted, arms crossing as well as he blocked Blaine’s view of Rachel. “Don’t get up Blaine’s ass because you’re not particularly observant.”

Blaine ducked around Sebastian in time to see Rachel flinch back from that. Blaine felt like he’d just dropped something he hadn’t realized he was holding, something precious.

“Sebastian, don’t …” Blaine reached out, curling a hand around Sebastian’s arm. “She’s right, I should have …”

“What right does she have to your personal life? Don’t be a doormat.”

“I’m not a doormat!” Blaine’s hand fell away. “I just want you to stop being a jerk!”

“That’s right, he’s a _jerk!_ ” Rachel pointed at Blaine. “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low!”

“Listen here, Berry --”

“No, I don’t have to -- I’m done --” Rachel came at them, shoving by Sebastian, and barreled into the bathroom, locking herself in from the sound of it. A loud sob soon followed. Blaine hesitantly knocked on the door, too aware of Sebastian’s snort of disbelief.

“Rachel? Please, open the door, I want to talk.”

“Go away, Blaine Anderson!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone while you’re upset …”

“I’m PEEING!” Rachel’s voice was thick with tears. Blaine hesitated, unsure, but Sebastian took him by the arm and tugged him gently away.

“She obviously wants room to be a drama queen,” Sebastian said, viciously, and certainly loud enough for Rachel to hear. “Let her.”

“ _She’s_ the one being dramatic?” Blaine gave Sebastian a stern look as they got to the stairs. “You can’t just start insulting people because they get upset!”

“She was insulting _you_. And the moment she implies I’m some kind of nasty little slut --”

“When did she do that!”

“I know you want to see the best in people, but --”

“It’s called the benefit of the doubt, Sebastian, and I’m really not appreciating how you haven't been listening to what I’ve been saying.”

“Forgive my rejection of unilateral decision making, then.” Sebastian and Blaine glowered at each other, and then Sebastian sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Can we chill the fuck out?”

Blaine blinked. He’d never had a fight go like this.

Sebastian continued. “I could have picked my words better, and I’m sorry, but you have to admit she was being damn confrontational and I’m not going to just lie there and take it.”

“I …” Blaine bit his lip. He didn’t like feeling like he was being pulled between two people here, two people he did care for, his … friends. But Sebastian was right. “She was. I’m sorry, too, I should have taken your side --”

“I don’t need sides. I just need you to not treat her with kid gloves when she’s going off on you.”

“I wasn’t …”

“Or do you think she actually has a right to care about who you’re sleeping with?”

Blaine hesitated. “She’s my friend.”

Sebastian stared down at him, expression unreadable, then nodded. “Let me buy you another drink. Forget about this mess.”

“She’s still crying. I can’t forget.”

“She’s been PMSing all day. It’s not about you. She’ll realize that, and apologize, and then we can all have drinks.”

“You think?”

“C’mon, tiger. It’ll be fine.”

It almost sounded like Sebastian was talking to himself, but Blaine nodded in agreement all the same.

They returned to the table, where Bethany announced “Jus’ in time” and grabbed Sebastian, taking him up to the front. They did an extremely vicious, and rocking version of _Before He Cheats_ , and even Blaine (who had long since developed an almost pathological reaction to the term ‘cheater’ and had half a mind lost downstairs where Rachel was hiding) had to clap along in delight. Rachel reappeared, studiously avoiding eye contact as she resumed her seat between Cooper and the Alaskan.

They stayed a few more songs, then paid their bill, Bethany declaring they absolutely had to check out Café Lafitte in Exile, which Blaine had actually heard about before -- one of, if not the oldest operating gay bar in the United States, open since 1933. Their chattering group swarmed there next, and thankfully Monday night meant it wasn’t so busy they couldn’t find seats. It was getting late in the evening, at the point where other bars might start doing last calls, but this place was 24/7 so they just ordered more drinks and started talking. About their homes, school, stuff like that; Bethany’s presence in the group confirmed the age-old truth that where there was one, there was many, so they many of them had something to contribute for coming out stories too, comparing things between the midwest and the Deep South. It wasn’t the most pleasant conversation, but it was almost healing. Bethany’s hand found his, and they laced their fingers together, falling into each other when a guy, Jordan’s, story turned from the tragic to the hilarious in a story involving a pie and a vacuum cleaner -- “cost of bein’ a curious gay youth.”

Rachel was quiet. Maybe it was the conversational topic, but more likely, it was down to the dark look she sent Sebastian whenever he touched Blaine.

“Stop laughin' at my trauma,” Jordan protested, laughing too.

“See, this is why I’ve never been sure of that ‘sucks like a Hoover’ cliché …” Sebastian said.

“You used it, like, three days ago,” Blaine protested.

“I promise to stop using clichés to describe you, then,” Sebastian said, which earned a loud shout of laughter from the group while Blaine dived into his drink, grinning and blushing. Cooper pointed at Sebastian with a “Hey!” which only earned more laughter.

“Blaine was engaged.” Rachel spoke up suddenly, and everyone made noises of surprise while the bottom dropped out of Blaine’s stomach. “To a very sweet boy. But now he’s here with --”

“Rachel!” Blaine slammed his glass down, slopping beer over his fingers. She jumped. “I think you’ve had enough.”

Their table was quiet. The bar, practically empty apart from them, was quiet. Blaine could feel everyone’s eyes on them.

“I respect our friendship,” Rachel said, voice raw, “So I won’t tell them. But think about why you wouldn’t want anyone to hear.”

Then she grabbed her purse, yanking out her wallet. Everyone watched silently as she threw a twenty on the table, then, eyes wet, stalked off. Sebastian got up as well, an abrupt rise like he’d fallen up. His knuckles were white as he pulled out his own wallet, tossing a few more twenties on the table.

“I’m going to talk to her.”

“I don’t think you should …”

“I can talk to her,” Sebastian insisted, and Blaine watched him walk off unsurely. Jordan imitated a missile collision sound, and laughter followed, tension breaking. Cooper was making a puzzled face at Blaine, who pretended not to notice. Instead he smiled weakly at Bethany.

“Have any of you ever been in a Glee club? We’re all kind of like this.”

More laughter. Bethany said, “I _was_ in Band.” Blaine’s smile got easier, but he couldn’t help an anxious glance to the front door. He couldn’t hear anything, but that wasn’t exactly a comfort. He was worried for Sebastian, who certainly didn’t deserve Rachel’s anger on Blaine’s behalf; he was worried for Rachel, who might have bitten off more than she could chew. Bethany followed his look, and tactfully said, “Early day tomorrow. We should get going.”

“Let’s share contact info first,” Blaine said, a little desperately. He hoped they didn’t think the less of their little group for the dramatics on display. Bethany smiled, and phone numbers and such were exchanged around the table. The bill sorted out and paid, Cooper and Blaine exited the bar; Sebastian and Rachel were nowhere in sight. They parted ways from Bethany and her friends, many "bonswars" filling the night air, and then he and his brother slowly started walking down the dark street in the direction of their hotel.

“Do you think they went back to the hotel?” Blaine asked.

“I’ve got an idea,” Cooper said. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Coop.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” Cooper grabbed Blaine, stopping him with a frown. “She’s been weird about him all trip. Even _you_ didn’t want to pick him up. So what’s going on?”

"My reluctance has nothing to do with Rachel's reluctance."

"So there's like, multiple events involved? Is Sebastian a serial killer?"

"He'd be in jail."

"Oh, he's too smart and rich for that. Handsome, too."

"I don't get you, Coop." Blaine shook his head. "Don't try anything with him, please."

"No worries, I get he's _your_ guy." Cooper nudged him. "But what kind of guy is he?"

"A good one, who isn't defined by the mistakes of his past because he's worked really hard to come back from them. A guy I'm ... really happy to have in my life."

"But what mistakes did he _make?_ "

"None of your business, frankly. And he's been forgiven, so it shouldn't matter."

"Not by Rachel, obviously.”

“She didn’t know him like I did. But you’ve seen them get along this trip.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” Blaine agreed, biting his lip and shaking Cooper free. He began to walk again, looking for Sebastian and Rachel between the distinct orangey-yellow circles of the gaslamps, imagining them locked in full battle somewhere in the darkness. God, why hadn’t he told Rachel sooner? This was all his fault.

“Stop avoiding,” Cooper said, catching up with him. “And tell me what happened.”

"Let it go, Cooper."

Blaine would rather tell Bethany; she seemed to have her head screwed on straight, likely to hear him out; Cooper tended to do what the great goddess Art required of him.

"It involves you, it's my business."

Blaine rolled his eyes at that. Really? They walked in silence down Bourbon Street for a while, weaving around groups of drunken tourists in fanny packs and still-in-control-of-their-faculties New Orleanians who were chatting easily with each other; it seemed the street, the Quarter, the city might never really sleep in a way that wasn't quite New York, but still something thriving. Blaine noted more than a few places advertising 24/7 business, and he peeked in through windows, searched through patios, in case Sebastian and Rachel had ducked into one of them.

"There they are." Cooper pointed dramatically; Sebastian and Rachel were down a side-street, in the light of a gaslamp, but black bar shadows cut across them from the support column they were arranged around, talking furiously by someone's house. Maybe _furiously_ was the wrong description -- while it was definitely passionate, they didn't look angry, voices not raised.

"Maybe we should leave them alone to work it out."

"Nah, I'm going to figure out what's going on."

"Just leave it!" Blaine tried to grab Cooper, but Cooper shook him off, and approached with a cheery, "Hey!"

Sebastian and Rachel looked up, and Blaine ran after Cooper, sending Sebastian an apologetic look. Sebastian shrugged, turning to Cooper. "We're having a conversation here, Cooper."

"I just wanted to ask what the hell was going on," Cooper said, and Blaine realized too late that Cooper was speaking too-bright, an edge hidden there. "Since no one will freaking _tell me_."

Sebastian stared back at Cooper; Rachel shifted unsurely, glancing at Blaine, then glancing away; Blaine shook his head wearily, saying, "Coop ... it's not important."

Then Sebastian straightened, and spoke clearly and evenly to Cooper, saying:

"I stole their setlist, I blackmailed her, and I blinded Blaine with a laced slushie."

Cooper stared back mutely, eyes wide. Sebastian's words might have been a gunshot, but they were soft for one, dissipated once they hit the air.

"Accidentally," Blaine stressed, touching Cooper's elbow. "And temporarily."

"Oh," Cooper said. "Cool."

Sebastian barely had time to raise an eyebrow at that before Cooper hauled off and socked him across the jaw.

Blaine made a strangled sound. “Cooper!”

“ _Ohmygosh_ \--” Rachel added, hands flying to cover her mouth.

Sebastian stumbled back, catching himself on the column of the house behind him. Rachel came back, slapping Cooper’s arm with a “Stop it!” while Blaine stepped between them, holding his hands up.

“Step aside, Patty Hearst,” Cooper said, trying to dodge around Blaine to get at Sebastian, but Blaine stopped him with a hand to his chest, glaring up at his idiot brother.

“Cooper, calm down,” Rachel said. “This doesn’t need to sink to point of physical violence! We have the capability to discuss things like _adults_.”

“Talk things like adults?" Cooper made a disbelieving sound, sharp and bitter. "He's talking about a time Blaine was _hospitalized_."

A time, not the time. A history Blaine was unfortunately familiar with, and it felt wrong in Cooper's unknowing mouth. He felt sick. He glanced over his shoulder at Sebastian, who was staring at the ground, jaw tight and bright red on one side, which he rubbed. Cooper took advantage of Blaine’s distraction to break free again, making a lunge for Sebastian, and Blaine snarled, grabbing Cooper’s arm and using his leverage to yank him back around, applying a vice grip on Cooper’s arms to hold him in place; Cooper struggled, but Blaine held fast, his heart pounding more from anger than anxiety now.

“Can you _shut up_ ,” Blaine said. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Me? Embarrassing myself?!”

“Yes, you,” Blaine replied, voice feeling as tight as the winding annoyance in his chest. “You’re not doing this for me, so stop acting so justified!”

“I am justified!”

“He is,” Sebastian added quietly. “I don’t like it, but he’s your brother --”

“Seriously?” Blaine didn’t know if he was replying to Cooper or Sebastian, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from his brother, who was staring past him, always past him, eyes hard and breathing raggedly and probably wrapped up in some fantasy that this was a segment on _The Real World_. It made that winding sensation cinch, hard against his ribs, then blow out with a bitter laugh. “If you actually cared, why didn’t you visit me in the hospital?”

Cooper finally looked down at that, tension shocked out of his arms which finally stopped flexing impatiently. Blaine let go of him, backing up a step, chest aching. “Blainey …”

“I had to get _surgery_ and where the _hell_ were you?”

“There was a -- a thing --”

“You can’t even remember!” Blaine should be used to this. Shouldn’t have let Cooper trick him into thinking differently. It still hurt. “And when I was fourteen and some guys tried to kill me? You didn’t even send flowers! I was so alone and you -- you couldn’t answer my texts when I wanted advice on a Warbler audition song! You aren’t owed _a damn thing_ when it comes to me!”

No one said anything. Cooper looked like _he’d_ been socked. Blaine might be throw up; he’d drank too much, and it didn’t mix well with the ugly sucking wound in his gut.

“I know I could have done better …”

“Yes, you could have!” Blaine pinned Cooper in place with his glare; he wasn’t letting him wriggle free. “You know what? I do think you’ve been a terrible big brother!”

Blaine held the moment, the anger melting into satisfaction as he saw the shattered look on Cooper’s face, and while he still felt justified he turned away from what he’d done. He grabbed Sebastian’s hand, and pulled him along as he marched off. Sebastian stumbled, maybe still catching the shockwaves of the moment, but Blaine didn’t pause, couldn’t stop, like ceasing his movement would drag him right back to where he’d started, the whirlpool of Cooper’s charisma and forgive, forget, don’t ever question, just remember that was his big brother and no matter what he loved him and they had made such good progress and Blaine wasn’t even angry, just ….

He slowed down, and Sebastian drew even with him, shifting their hands so they were holding each other, not just a dragging grip. Blaine glanced sidelong at him, frowning.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sebastian looked over his shoulder, but when Blaine checked too, Cooper was nowhere to be seen. “But you don’t have to apologize for him.”

“If I’d told him sooner, I could have explained things.”

“What’s there to explain?”

“The context.”

Sebastian waited a few beats before speaking.

“Does that really matter?”

Blaine looked at him again, frown deepening.

“Of course it does.”

Sebastian didn’t reply to that. They walked in silence, passing by drunk revelers on their ways home from the various bars, snatches of singing and music as removed from him at that moment as the absent moon, and Blaine didn’t feel like sleeping when he was so empty. Scraped raw, like he was a jack-o-lantern set out to warn away the ghosts, an example to others. A way he hadn’t felt since leaving Kurt, the familiar feeling of spilling out his guts and wondering what he’d get in return, the continued zig-zag of uncertainty that had made his life a plucked tightrope. Blaine didn’t like feeling unsettled, unsure, unable to look for a safety net in case it wasn’t there. Was Cooper there? Or would they spend their lives out of synch?

Blaine stopped, in the entryway to their hotel, shadowed from the rest of the street; Sebastian’s hand found his face. Blaine leaned into the touch, sighing.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. We can lock them out.”

“That’s mean.”

“I don’t really care.” Sebastian rubbed a thumb over Blaine’s cheek, then abruptly said, “I’m not self-hating.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Blaine replied, reaching out to grab Sebastian’s hip.

“I just … pulled a lot of crap.” Sebastian confessed like he was worried no one would listen, and Blaine leaned in, squeezing Sebastian’s hip. “And I didn’t stop overnight, even though I tried, I keep trying.”

“Being nice sucks?” Blaine echoed, and that startled a pleased smile out of Sebastian.

“Yeah. I guess I just think it will suck less if people know I’m trying. Which means owning up to the crap I’ve pulled.”

“Owning up doesn’t mean letting Cooper knock you around, though.”

“But you don’t think he has a point? I get why he’s angry. I think he’s owed that.”

“What? No. Not at all.”

“And how would you react if the situations were reversed?”

Sebastian was level-headed. Blaine appreciated that, liked Sebastian’s good humour born of knowing where he stood, the attractive quality of his confidence, how his words were precisely trained. Right then, it stung, made Blaine run a frustrated hand over the back of his head because he didn’t want to be honest, but Sebastian’s calm frankness was owed that. It made him uneasy, because like their disagreement over Rachel, he didn’t know how to handle this atypical pattern. It would be unfair to lash out; it was even more unfair that he’d at some point missed the chance to learn (or had forgotten?) the language of honesty that didn’t need to be propelled out by a surge of ugly emotion, guaranteed to hurt from the force of it when it landed.

He tried evasion, looking away and frowning. “I don’t know! I’d like to think I’d consider the context, but --”

“But it’s hard, when it’s this emotional,” Sebastian said. “We all just need a breather.”

Blaine didn’t want a breather. He wanted to stay mad. It was cleaner that anything that followed.

“I don’t need to care about a hypothetical, right now.” Blaine crossed his arms. “Why doesn’t my opinion right now, right here, matter?”

“It does,” Sebastian said, staring at him. They stepped aside to let someone into the hotel, who let out a drunken mumble of thanks, and then Sebastian continued with, “Of course it does.”

“Then my opinion is he should’ve -- he should listen to me.” Blaine was suddenly washed over with a memory, Sebastian’s act of charity and looking over at Kurt, judging his opinion. Kurt looking over at him, in a coffee shop, _Wait for the punch. You know it’s coming_. The lack of trust, _You used to text Sebastian all the time. You would call him, even_ , the maybe lies that Blaine hadn’t realized he was letting fall, and they’d ended up at that parking garage at his (lack of) discretion and that slushie had never been meant for him. Sebastian didn’t want to hurt him, but he’d never understood that Kurt was his heart, his lifeblood, the one he’d shaped himself to be with, the shored walls to his ocean, without whom he’d be adrift. Blaine had loved him, _loved_ him, and he was an unavoidable ghost when this conversation came up. “I listened to Kurt, about you.”

Sebastian looked away at that, nodding like he didn’t register the movement.

“I listened to Santana, and Rachel, and Artie, and Mr Schue, and I was _angry_ , I was so angry -- because nothing happened, nobody cared, and Dalton didn’t do anything --”

“Why did you throw away the tape?”

“What?”

“My confession, the tape.”

“Which confession?”

“Of how I put rock salt, in the slushie,” Sebastian said, looking baffled. Blaine was pretty sure he was more confused, though. “I don’t have it anymore, because I ran it over about sixteen times with my car, but you guys had it for days …”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Santana recorded me confessing, but they gave it back to me.”

Blaine had experienced the earth splitting in two often enough to recognize the rumbles of the oncoming destruction, alarm bells from the universe that he really didn’t want to hear more. But, in his ever-present ability to bring his fingers that much closer to the fire, he urgently asked, “Who gave it back? Who?”

“It’s not important.”

“ _Sebastian_.”

“Kurt.” Sebastian watched the chasm grow with dismay. “You seriously didn’t know?”

“I …” Blaine shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

Blaine stepped away, running his hands over his hair. He tipped his chin back, but he could only see the yellow of the hotel, cheery colour muted by the deep dark of the night, like something swimming, nearly out of sight, through murky waters. Blaine let out a long, slow breath, kept his lungs empty for a few long beats, then drew in another steady breath. Somewhere in his chest his heart had gone silent, hiding in his throat, his intestines, wrapping them up a neat bow to present them to the butcher that was that name, that context, that confession.

“I thought you did.”

“I didn’t,” Blaine repeated. He looked back at Sebastian, trying a smile. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.” Blaine’s smile fell away, and he felt better without it. “But you know what? I will be.”

It was just another disappointment, but those were survivable.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Sebastian said, reaching out tentatively to grab Blaine’s hand, squeezing it gently.

Blaine returned the grip. “I need some … space, to think.”

“I can sleep in the RV. Probably a good idea, so Cooper doesn’t suffocate me in my sleep …”

Blaine laughed. “Smart idea. But no, I think I’ll go for a walk.”

“A walk? It’s nearly four.”

“It can’t be worse than New York at three am.”

“You walked New York streets alone at three am?”

Of course he hadn’t. He’d always been with Kurt.

“I’ll find somewhere all-night to sit in.” Blaine looked to Sebastian plaintively. “Just let me have this. I need to be alone, right now.”

“Okay.” Sebastian shook his head. “Just … text me.”

“I will.”

\--

The twenty-four hour café was the perfect blend of quaint and isolating, the kind of place people came to stave off hangovers of get ready to face the day ahead after pulling an all-nighter, each wrapped up in their own business. Blaine settled into a booth, ordered coffee and a stack of pancakes, and managed to chat with his waitress, who seemed to sense he wasn’t in the mood to talk and brought him some extra butter packets with a sympathetic look. Blaine dumped them all on to melt, followed by a fountain of syrup, the way he’d used to eat breakfast as a kid. He ate slowly, staring at his phone as he chewed, wishing he could call Kurt.

New York was about an hour ahead, he guessed, so it would be near dawn up there. Kurt wasn’t a morning person, not the way Blaine was, so it would be rude to call now. Blaine was angry, but he wasn’t inconsiderate. Not like …

He stabbed his pancake stack, then reached over, opening up a group chat with Sam and Tina that he hadn’t touched in months. He tapped out a tightly controlled, _Did Kurt ever have a tape with a confession from Sebastian on it?_

Blaine wasn’t really expecting an answer, returning to work on his pancakes, but within five minutes they both replied:

_Sam: Dude. Wear are you???_

_Tina: BLAINE DEVON ANDERSON!_

_Blaine: New Orleans. Having fun._

_Blaine: Did Kurt ever have that tape?_

A few moments, and then,

_Tina: Yes. But we gave it back._

_Tina: ???_

_Tina: Did you forget?_

_Sam: New Orleans? Sick._

_Tina: Do you have a concussion? IN NEW ORLEANS? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?_

_Sam: And yeah._

_Tina: I’M GOING TO COME DOWN THERE RIGHT NOW!_

_Sam: Why?_

_Sam: Chill Tina._

_Blaine: I’m not concussed. I’m okay, Tina._

Blaine, relieved by their ignorance (albeit a different kind from his own) and charmed by the familiar antics, let out a quiet laugh.

_Sam: So it saint filthy first dates down there?_

_Tina: Fifty. Isn’t fifty first dates._

_Sam: Autocorrect. Blaine nose what I mean._

_Blaine: I do. Sorry for waking you guys up. Thank you._

_Tina: You didn’t wake me up, I’m studying for my exam tomorrow._

_Tina: And even if you did, I wouldn’t care. We miss you, Blainey Days. :(_

_Sam: COD marathon dude. About to go to bed. Miss you two. A lot._

Blaine reread those messages, feeling shaky. He knew it was his irrational brain, but he’d not really thought they could miss him as much as he did them. But this … well, the earth hadn’t split in two. Blaine still had this, even after his neglect. Blaine still had … well, people.

_Blaine: I miss you both. I’m sorry I’ve been out of contact._

_Blaine: I’ve just been rebuilding my life._

_Tina: You better leave room for us._

_Blaine: Of course. You’ll always be my family._

And Blaine didn’t need his own, biological family -- if he kept them, it was because he chose them, and knowing he could make that choice (even if he already knew what he’d do) was -- nice.

_Blaine: I’m on a roadtrip. Maybe we’ll drop in to see you._

_Sam: Do it!!_

_Tina: YES!_

_Blaine: Okay. I’ll let you get back to it, but thanks for answering._

_Blaine: Just thanks. I love you guys._

_Tina: Love you forever ♥_

_Sam: Love you. Your making me emo bro. Talk more soon?_

_Blaine: Yeah. Goodnight._

Blaine returned his homescreen, a new buoyancy filling him that interacted oddly with his jangling nerves, like pop rocks in a balloon. He bounced his leg as he stared at the icons, thinking. Tonight had been a rollercoaster, and so much of it could have been avoided if he’d just _talked_ to Rachel -- she was right, it was an expected courtesy. But Sebastian was also right -- his friends didn’t get to dictate who he chose to be with, even if he was open to their opinions. Because if the events of the night had proven anything, it was that Blaine wasn’t just allowing Sebastian to share a piece of time and space with him, he actively  _wanted_ Sebastian in his life, and he’d defend his right to want that. It wasn’t something he’d prepared for (how did you prepare for the likes of Sebastian Smythe in your life?) and he hadn’t known how to handle it. Had been reluctant to share something that should be fragile.

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was. Maybe it was just a rebound, a fling. Maybe it didn’t matter either way.

Sebastian had apologized. Sebastian had been honest. Sebastian had changed. (Blaine had gotten used to feeling pride for something that wasn’t his accomplishment, but had felt linked to him all the same.) Blaine forgave Sebastian. Blaine liked Sebastian. Blaine wanted Sebastian. Sebastian, who didn’t have expectations, who knew how to make him smile, who made him come in a way that could only be called _profound_ , who he could just … talk to. Blaine was living, full stop, not just a fantasy or the life or a dream, but just living and enjoying himself and not only did he want that, he wanted people to know he had that. Hell, people _needed_ to know that.

So he ordered another cup of coffee, finished off his pancakes, and flicked to Instagram. The early dawn was lighting up the sky and turning it rosy and inviting beyond the trellis outside, faints rays peeking through the greenery, and Blaine still wasn’t sleepy as he started uploading pictures off his phone. Concerned with quality, he’d mostly just used this for selfies, people they’d met, the occasional time he hadn’t felt like carrying a camera, so there wasn’t a ton. He still tried to space them out a little, but he also didn’t care if people unfollowed him. He wanted these public. There was Liv and Alma, there was Cooper and him -- they looked so brotherly, it made Blaine sigh, anger long since drained away and regret taking its place -- and San Fran with jazz hands. Him and Sebastian and Cooper, stopping mid-jog at a scenic mural, Rachel off-screen (telling them  _We can do another two miles_ _!_ while running in place.) He avoided the ones with Rachel, in respect to how she was still in hiding, but the only picture he really hesitated over was one of Sebastian.

It was from the Arizona spa, one of their rooms, and Sebastian in their dream of a gauzy bed, net hangings and white all else, even the smooth covered headboard, leaving it like a field of snow in the desert. Sebastian was shirtless, arm tucked behind his head and other hand resting on his stomach, right above the sheets that pooled at his waist, the early morning sunlight contouring all his angles. It was a gorgeous picture. It was also a provocative one; Blaine’s hand was clearly visible, resting high on Sebastian’s leg, intimate and casual.

(“Stay still,” Blaine ordered, laughing as he gripped onto the sheet. “You’ll ruin it.”

“Are we finally making a porno?” Sebastian replied, moving his arm behind his head. “Awesome.”

“No. You just look very handsome right now.”

“As opposed to the rest of the time? Ouch.”

“You’re always very handsome,” Blaine assured him, which made Sebastian’s teasing grin soften, eyes slipping into a bedroom smolder to match.

“Make sure to caption it like that. _Always very handsome_.”

“Of course.” Blaine took the picture then tossed his phone aside, sliding up Sebastian’s body while pulling the sheet away to kiss him.)

Blaine tapped his phone against the table, and then nodding to himself, uploaded the picture. He captioned it just as requested, and then: _#bestsummer._ Then he turned off all notifications for the app, and let it live.

Best summer. Despite everything, it really was true.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: Lady Gaga's _[Telephone ft. Beyoncé](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQ95z6ywcBY)_ , Carrie Underwood's _[Before He Cheats](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAFvlknsT4U)_ , and an unnamed Spice Girls song which is, in my heart, _[Viva Forever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVwWDHTrEZM)_.
> 
> Beth is basically just the ever-lovely and talented [Rebecca Naomi Jones](http://ilarge.lisimg.com/image/5261883/1118full-rebecca-naomi-jones.jpg)! The dress Rachel buys is [HERE](https://www.justfashionnow.com/image_cache/resize/450x600/image/catalog/20160215-ori/102351.jpg) \-- at this point she must own every adorable polka dot item ever made. The bowtie Seb buys Blaine is [HERE](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/6b/c0/74/6bc074eec353f80e80f91b2a99f6c3aa.jpg). Seb's new leather jacket inspired by Grant's one [HERE](http://tomandlorenzo.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/Grant-Gustin-On-Set-Television-Flash-RPSBH-Tom-Lorenzo-Site-TLO-1.jpg). 
> 
> Random note on the palm reading: it should be accurate as to what's described, but really, Blaine's palms would look different from Darren's so don't try and follow along at home with a pic of his hand lol. The graffiti-filled bathroom (and the "Don't waste time on anyone who makes you feel hard to love" in particular) inspired by one I've been to in real life, though not in New Orleans .... s/o to whoever wrote that particular message, you're an icon.


	11. tomorrow i'll mend it, the empty bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  I'm ... very sorry. You know, I relate a lot to Blaine in this fic, so it's very healing in some ways to write him being able to come out of his depression, but when you're not in the same place it's harder.  
>   
> I will say that I will not permanently abandon this fic, ever -- Blaine is *ott tumblr tags voice* my baby my angel my son the loml my perfect boy, and this fic is basically my love letter to him. I *do* have it all written, mostly (except, ironically, for the bits where they go to my hometown ... having some trouble there ...) but I've been rewriting the second half because I've been, ah, unsatisfied with how rushed it felt. But yeah. I *will* finish it.  
>   
> Thank you for all your kind words -- they helped a lot in encouraging me! And thanks to the very kind Lunar191 who turned me onto the cover of [Blank Space by Imagine Dragons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjTPjH_DMHg), which does indeed work so well for this fic!  
>   
> Also, a happy/belated Seblaine Week to everyone! I'm sorry I wasn't able to participate, but make sure to check out all the cool fics written for it!  
>   
>  **Warnings** for this chapter would just be a blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to smoking a joint.

The next day was quiet.

The cusp of night and morning before, sun starting to rise but the streets still quiet, air a little cooler yet nowhere near cool, he headed back to the hotel. Then he remembered the fight, that Cooper and Rachel were in the room with them and he couldn’t go up there. He couldn’t. So he went to the RV and Kelly’s loft bed, Sebastian mumbling and pulling Blaine into a cuddly hold, hand tucking itself under Blaine’s t-shirt to press against his ribs. They’d slept in, still close.

“Does it hurt?”

They were at Kelly’s small table, eating breakfast. Sebastian had reached out, lacing their fingers together on top of the table, and Blaine tried to avoid staring at their conjoined hands on the table. So instead he’d indicated the fresh bruise Sebastian was sporting on his jaw.

“Nah.” Sebastian poked it experimentally, then winced. “Okay, nevermind, yes.”

“Cooper better apologize,” Blaine said, glowering. “Or I’ll give him a matching one.”

“Cool down, Jackie. First off, he _does_ have a matching one, already, thanks to you. And so do you.” Sebastian smirked, while Blaine touched his own jaw -- the mark was nearly gone, but he hadn’t forgotten. “We should get Beth to hit Rachel, then we can all be walking around looking like we tried to recreate _Road House_.”

“Why Bethany?”

“I’m not hitting a girl. C’mon.”

“I think if you help plan it it still counts.”

“Really? Damn my Machiavellian genius …”

“Machiavellian? Not Marquis de Sade?”

“He was more ‘perv’ than ‘genius.’”

Blaine grinned, eyebrows raising, and Sebastian got it, making a wounded sound, squeezing his hand. “Oh, I see how it is. Has anyone ever told you you’re cruel?”

“I guess you’re just my Justine.”

“Please! I’m obviously Juliette. You’re Justine.”

“Why am I the depressing one?”

“Because I’m the ruthless one.” Sebastian considered him. “I promise to join a monastery if you get struck by lightning anytime soon.”

“You? A monk?”

“My self-control is excellent.”

Blaine was still laughing at that when he got a message from Bethany: _You okay after that night out?_

He smiled, replying, _I don’t get hungover. How are you?_

Bethany: _Mr I Dont Get Hungover Also Girls All Want Me huh uhuh Mr Gwo Tèt …_

Blaine showed this to Sebastian, who, laughing, took Blaine’s phone (freeing their hands) and typed something. When he handed it back, ‘Blaine’ had said: _Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful_. Blaine tore off a piece of toast, throwing it at Sebastian, who had the nerve to catch it with his excellent reflexes and pop it into his mouth with a grin.

Blaine: _Sorry for that._

Bethany: _That was Sebastian, wasn’t it?_

Blaine: _That obvious?_

Bethany: _Your boyfriend’s lucky he’s cute._

Blaine stared at that, probably too long, because Sebastian tried to snatch his phone away. Blaine jerked it back, heart pounding. Sebastian held up his hands.

“Sorry,” Blaine said automatically, typing back a hasty, _Hang on, something just came up, ttyl_ and then smiling too nervously at Sebastian. “Where are we going today?”

“Knowing you, some historical sights.”

That rankled Blaine. “We don’t _have_ to do what I want.”

“You’re assuming I have more of an opinion than I do.” Sebastian propped his chin up on his hand. “I’ve never been the plan-every-minute of your travels kinda guy. I go where the wind takes me, and right now, you’re my wind.”

“Oh.” Blaine now felt like a heel. He smiled somewhere between apologetic and flattered. “Well. Some museums and historical sights would be nice. New Orleans has always been one of the big meccas of American culture and history in my mind, and I’d love to learn more. Last night Beth told me some really cool local stories, her family goes way back … what?”

Sebastian had been staring at him in a familiar way, eyes sparkling and a small grin curling his mouth, but then it had changed a twitch, smile widening in a soft way, the careful sharpness of his eyes fading, and he looked -- young. Not like the too-worldly young man that Blaine liked to think of him as.

“You’re very cute.” Sebastian didn’t seem to notice a change, not hesitating before he leaned across the table to kiss Blaine. “Now come on, let’s go to the hotel and ask the front desk which local attractions we should check out.”

“Sounds good.”

\--

They found their way back to the square, and then started to tour museums located in old Colonial buildings, famous landmarks milling with tourists who streamed in and out and around of places that had been so tread upon that even careful maintenance couldn’t hide the signs of time from the flow of people. Blaine liked that, liked that you could feel that three hundred years of humanity had shaped this place, each leaving their footprint in a way. In his more maudlin moments, he had wondered if he’d ever become anything or leave anything behind but empty dreams and a broken heart. Places like this reminded him that everyone was part of something.

But it was nice to know he wasn’t feeling quite so maudlin anymore. Blaine just stored this wisdom up in case of rainy days in the future.

“Cemetery next,” Sebastian said, skimming over the brochure they’d taken from the hotel. “I hear the St. Louis cemeteries are all worth a look, especially the first two … I love cemeteries. I used to hang out in the Cimetière du Père-Lachaise when I wanted to be left alone.”

“That’s where Oscar Wilde is buried, right?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian smiled. “His tomb’s covered in lipstick kisses.”

Blaine didn’t say he’d like to see that some day, though he would, because he already knew that Sebastian would offer for them to go together. It was nice, knowing, and somewhat intimidating.

“Let’s go find a tour, then.”

They required a tour to be able to visit the graveyard, as it wasn’t open to the public, but it was well worth it -- they wandered down narrow halls between tall marble tombs and more modest little grey headstones, many so worn down that the names were just faint dips in the lichen. It ended up that Blaine naturally drifted near the front of the group, listening to all the stories their tour guide had, while Sebastian lingered in the back, stopping to examine various graves. When they got to the second St. Louis graveyard, Blaine stepped back to join Sebastian, as it seemed this graveyard had a great number of famous jazz and blue musicians, and Blaine was already pretty familiar with Danny Barker’s story, because his dad had been a big fan and used to play his albums on the way to grandma’s house, Blaine sitting in the back in his Sunday best.

“So …” Blaine tucked his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side and watching as Sebastian laughed silently at what seemed like a perfectly benign inscription. “You like being alone.”

“I do.” Sebastian brushed a stick off the grave, then straightened. “Who doesn’t?”

“It’s kind of … lonely. Being alone. Obviously …”

“Different folks.” Sebastian joined Blaine, nudging him. They naturally fell back from the group, Sebastian occasionally reaching out to run a hand over a tomb relief. “I _am_ an introvert.”

Blaine resisted a laugh of disbelief, it being so impolite while they were out in public, but he did raise his eyebrows with a baffled smile. Sebastian read that look clearly, snickering. Blaine’s disbelief grew. That was not a lying snicker.

“You’re not introverted!”

“You just say that because I’m not some maladjusted mouth-breathing basement-dweller with no future or friends. Just because I can socialize with the best of them doesn’t mean I _prefer_ it.”

“I don’t know if I get that, exactly …”

“Because _you_ like people.”

“No, I don’t get why you’d do something you don’t like. It doesn’t seem like you.”

Sebastian was, as far as he could tell, someone who never did anything he didn’t want to.

“You’re spoiled,” Sebastian informed him, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Because I actually like you, I look forward to talking to you.”

“I should hope so,” Blaine said, surprisingly tart, and Sebastian laughed. More seriously, Blaine continued, “I’m glad you’re comfortable with me.”

“Stop, you’ll make me blush.”

Sebastian pat him on the back, and then they caught up with the rest of their tour group.

\--

“We should stay in a haunted hotel,” Sebastian said when they left the graveyard.

“I’ll start Googling now,” Blaine promised, and Sebastian flashed him a bright smile.

\--

They went for a tour of a place called Mardi Gras World next, taking advantage of the free ride there on a psychedelically-painted bus driven by a cheerful man who named them some other point of interests they might check out. The place was owned by a man named Blaine, much to Sebastian’s amusement. “I can see you, in another lifetime …” he chuckled, as they wandered the large building, taking a tour that showed off a multitude of brightly coloured floats in various states of completion, what with the celebrations being months yet off. “I know a guy,” Sebastian said. “He can get a big discount last minute for Mardi Gras, the bigger the group the better. Did it last February with the team, and well, the more the merrier. You should come if we do it again next year.”

Was Sebastian asking him to meet his friends? Blaine glanced at him sidelong, and nodded in mute agreement. Then he went to admire the papier maché work on a float figurine, asking the woman working on it about her recipe for it and some other tips, craftsman to craftsman. As he was doing that, Bethany messaged him again, saying he was welcome to bring himself and his friends to dinner at her house tonight, so they could try some food off the commercial strip and enjoy a little intimate New Orleans party atmosphere. Sebastian agreed, so Blaine RSVPd for the both of them -- explaining, with some chagrin, that Cooper and Rachel would not be coming too -- and that he’d be bringing a giant steak. Bethany responded with a slew of emojis, so he gathered she was okay with that plan.

“Do you think we could replace Cooper for Bethany on our trip?” Blaine asked, flicking absently to his Find My iPhone for Cooper’s phone, which he’d set up ages ago upon realizing that his irresponsible brother could no more do the decent thing and check in than the sun could rise in the west. Cooper was a few miles away, apparently, doing god knows what.

“Having an equal number of girls to guys would be a gender balance I just don’t dig.”

“I _like_ girls,” Blaine said mulishly as they left Mardi Gras World. “They’re sweet and sensitive and beautiful and not arrogant pigheaded --”

“How can you talk like that, knowing Rachel Berry?”

“Rachel’s -- well, I know she can be a bit difficult, but she means well.”

“And Cooper doesn’t?”

“You _do_ remember he punched you in the face, right?”

Sebastian touched the bruise on his jaw, making a face and then smirking. “Maybe I just like the look. Don’t I look a little dangerous now?”

“You always look dangerous,” Blaine muttered, disgruntled that Sebastian was still being so _fair_ about the Cooper thing. “You scare me sometimes.”

“I’m choosing to be flattered,” Sebastian said, tucking his hands into his pockets with easygoing flair. “But it’s a near thing to offended, Anderson.”

“I don’t think you know _how_ to be offended.”

“Well … true.” Sebastian laughed. “So … Aquarium? Or something else?”

“I want to ride one of those cool old-fashioned streetcars first -- then the aquarium.”

They did just that, taking advantage of the semi-emptiness to take a lot of silly photos of each other, Sebastian twirling around one of the poles -- “Think strippers, not _Dancing In The Rain_ ” -- and lounging against the seats and, in a serious argument about what exactly smizing entailed, took very long critical looks of each other’s photographs, trying to decide who did it best. (It was, Blaine had to concede, Sebastian.) Then, after getting briefly lost and enjoying some more of the beautiful New Orleans architecture as a result, they eventually wandered their way over to the Audubon Aquarium of Americas.

It was a funky geometrical building of white crossed sections with a large gentle wave of a glass extension which shot up into the sky. It was milling with people, and the inside was full of a ton of kids, and Sebastian made the exact same disgruntled face each time one of them cut him off or ran into him accidentally while shrieking and chasing or being chased. Blaine laughed, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s waist to keep him moving -- if nothing else, it meant the homophobes would steer clear of them with their kids. Sebastian started to relax again, as they entered a cool dark tunnel that ran under a tank of water, his head tilting back to examine the brightly coloured little schools of fish which darted, mercury-quick, above them. After that there was a place to feed birds (“A little off-theme, aren’t they?” Sebastian asked, all the while wearing a frankly adorable expression of intense focus as he pet a small parakeet; Blaine snapped a photo that to instantly upload) that had penguins nearby. It turned out there was a pair there who had been together nearly twenty years.

Blaine, on the verge of tearing up, turned to Sebastian. “Even penguins can find true love,” he said. “It’s so sweet.”

His more melodramatic internal monologue was: _Will I ever have that again?_

“They can also be gay and adopt rocks and people are always sticking them in bowties. Are we sure you weren’t a penguin in a previous life?”

Blaine laughed. “I could accept that.”

“Oh, you’re no fun to tease.”

“I’m an expert at disarming it, it’s true.”

“You _are_ extremely disarming.” Sebastian winked at him.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Blaine winked right back.

They moved a bit closer, as if they’d had space between them to begin with; Blaine realized, staring down at their hands, side-by-side on the slightly chipped rail, how much he missed holding hands. How nice it had been at breakfast. Could he do it again? He hesitantly pushed his hand closer, but Sebastian pulled his hands away and tucked both securely into his pockets.

“Time to head to Beth’s?” Sebastian asked. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah.”

\--

Beth immediately put them to work peeling carrots.

“No one eats for free!”

“What about this?” Sebastian hefted the steak with a smirk, and Blaine showed the bottle of wine they’d also grabbed on the way.

Beth accepted both, then gave Sebastian a light poke with the package. “That gets you through the door. Everything else -- peeling carrots!”

Sebastian grumbled, and Blaine poked him too with a grin. They went into the kitchen, accepting peelers, then setting themselves up around an open compost container on her small scrubbed kitchen table as they got to work, Beth clattering around with pans and spices behind them while singing aloud loudly along to the radio.

 _For every word I could undo_  
_I've been uncrossed, and I've been untrue_  
_I've been the thorn, I've been the hunt_  
  
_With a heart of my own; burn it down low_  
_The light in your verse, and the shadow between_ _  
The way that I was when I used to roam_ ...

“I’m above peeling any and all things,” Sebastian said, hands surprisingly deft at it despite his complaints. “Vegetables included.”

“What about bananas?”

“I get my potassium from smoothies.”

“Uh-huh.” Blaine paused. “What do you mean, ‘vegetables included’? What else are you going to peel?”

Sebastian affected a shuddered. “If you don’t know, you don’t want to know.”

“Faces …” Blaine thought about it. “Feet. Mangoes.”

“Mangoes?”

“Fruit, not vegetables.”

“Okay, I don’t peel fruit either.”

“Fine, fine …”

A pause, then Sebastian made a noise of curious disgust and asked, “Wait, how do you peel _feet_?”

“Well, you know, if your feet get rough, you soak them in a bath, then you have foot tools to keep them soft to slough the skin off --”

“Please don’t say ‘slough skin’ ever again.”

“Especially in my kitchen!” Beth came over, leaning over Blaine to check their work, nodding in approval. “Nice work, boys.”

“Sebastian really pulled through,” Blaine teased.

“It helps to be handling something familiar …” Sebastian wrapped his hands around a carrot, and mimed jerking it off.

“If you’ve been handling dicks like that …” Beth grinned, snatching it from him and playfully wrapping her lips around it, before taking a loud, crunching bite. Sebastian laughed. “I worry for you.”

“And if you’ve been handling dicks like _that_ , I worry for them.” Sebastian smirked at Blaine. “Right?”

“I’d rather not comment …”

“I’ve never heard any complaints.” Beth looked down, cooed, and pinched Blaine’s cheek. “Look at this -- a guy too polite for lockerroom talk. Me mè would never believe it …”

“I’m maintaining a certain standard.”

“Fancy man.” Beth pinched his cheek again, and then there was a knock on the door. “Okay, I free you two from kitchen duty, you get to keep my guests company …”

The guests turned out to be a group who had all come together, bearing yet more alcohol and some snacks -- it seemed no one turned up empty handed. They flooded into the living room, and Blaine was relieved to note many new faces amongst the ones he recognized. Bethany had been very mum about the mysterious absence of Cooper and Rachel, and the spat from last night, but he didn’t want anyone else bringing it up. That tension wouldn’t reflect well on him.

Somehow, as the little dinner gathering grew into a full-fledged party, Blaine and Sebastian ended up on opposite sides of the room. It didn’t feel like it though; Blaine would glance up, to where Sebastian and Jordan were pinching beer bottle caps close and laughing as they tried to make three-pointers on the garbage can, and Sebastian would catch his gaze and Blaine would look away, smiling to himself. Or him and a nice girl, Anni, were mid-discussion of how various US relief efforts reflected racial and economic biases, and he’d feel Sebastian’s attention and glance over, and Sebastian would give him a _look_ with his mouth wrapped around the tip of his beer bottle and -- well.

Blaine was looking forward to getting back to bed sometime soon.

Bethany served them a beautiful _boeuf à l'haïtienne_ \-- “Seriously, this is incredible!” “Mesi, mesi,” -- she also had made a few Creole fish dishes, and Blaine dug in with relish. While he wouldn’t call the food they’d been getting so far bad by any stretch of the imagination -- food was treated with real respect here -- there was an extra touch of love in home cooking that made Blaine go back for seconds. Then thirds. And fourths. By the time desserts (and party favours -- Blaine didn’t partake, but Sebastian took a few hits, laughing out smoke) came around he was thinking longingly of his loose pyjama pants and sleeping it off. He settled back into the couch cushions with a content sigh, half-watching TV (Christopher Reeve’s _Superman_ ) and smiling when Beth’s heavy warmth draped against his side. She was very affectionate -- as an affectionate person himself, it was like finding one of those flattering, old, soft and veined mirrors that made everyone look like a vintage starlet as seen through a smear of vaseline on the lens. Warm, and nostalgic, and friendly.

“So …” Beth patted his knee. “Your brother, friend? Where are they?”

Of course it would come to this at some point. Blaine tried not to frown.

“We parted ways for the day.” Blaine kept his tone as politely neutral as possible. She made a sound that was suspiciously like a catfight _me-ow_. Blaine sighed, and she pat his leg again.

“Mm. They’re missing my cooking, that’s their loss.”

“I totally agree with that.”

Bethany grinned, then nudged him. “Did I say? Y’all brought me good luck today.”

Was this about the steak? Blaine squinted, shifted his head to peer at her.

“How?”

Her smile turned very mischievous. “I nearly hit a girl with my car.”

“What?!”

“She wasn’t hurt!” Beth laughed. “She ran out to chase a jar that fell from her bag, it rolled right behind my car. I was checking on her and we got to talking and …” Beth bit her lip, still grinning, and Blaine’s eyes widened.

“Oh my god! That’s amazing! What’s her name?”

“Grace. We’re going this Friday.”

“I wish I could be here for that,” Blaine said, then considered that. “I mean, not in a, follow you around way, but. I love first dates! That’s so sweet, I’m so happy for you!”

“And you know what I was thinking about, in my car, before?”

“What?”

“Sebastian saying ‘sapphic energy.’”

“Gosh.” Blaine laughed. “He’ll love that. He was just talking about how Machiavellian he is this morning.”

He looked for Sebastian, who had drifted a little closer, close enough for Blaine to overhear the heated debate he was having in the circle that was passing the joint around about whether _Superman III_ was an underappreciated work of genius or a certified flop. Sebastian wasn’t a very gesticulative speaker, but right now his hands were moving in broad circles, and Blaine lost a moment to the way it angled, Sebastian’s wrists, how he splayed his fingers. Blaine really did like Sebastian’s hands.

Bethany snapped her fingers in front of his face, and with a sheepish smile, Blaine returned to their conversation.

It was a good night.

\--

They risked the hotel that night, and found they had it to themselves.

Blaine decided he didn’t care where Cooper and Rachel were; if he and Sebastian had been forced to deal with the tiny accommodations of the RV loft, Cooper and Rachel could take the next shift. They locked the door and took a long, hot shower together before falling into bed, sheets billowing up around them as they landed, still damp, laughing and pulling each other into a messy kiss.

Sebastian fingered him, slow and easy, and Blaine hooked his arms around Sebastian’s neck, holding him close, shuddering breaths and Blaine’s thighs falling open around Sebastian’s lean body, his strong arm, between them. Not a word passed between them, just the slick sounds of Sebastian’s fingers moving inside him, the air thick with humidity and sweat curling behind Blaine’s ears as he tipped his head back against the sheets.

Outside, thunder cracked, and rolled, and Blaine came, Sebastian watching him, working him through it.

It was a _very_ good night.

\--

Cooper and Rachel were still gone, next morning.

Blaine had at least received a text from them; Rachel said she was taking a spa morning and added a tentative “Maybe we’ll see each other later …” that made Blaine smile. Rachel wasn’t a shy girl, and she’d never stay away for long. Cooper only said he had “stuff” to do and tacked on a cheerfully obnoxious ‘laters’ to the end of it. Blaine hoped they had umbrellas -- the storm from last night continued to rage, thick dark clouds hanging low and fat in the sky, their intensity at odds with the soft silvery sheen of the falling sheets of rain which plunged down towards the dry earth, refreshing it. Sebastian and his cigarette were out on the balcony when Blaine woke up, but he wasn’t smoking it yet, just rolling it around his mouth as he stared out over the courtyard.

“We’ve been abandoned again.”

“Truly, I suffer.” Sebastian put the smoke back behind his ear, and reached out to Blaine, who came over, sliding in between Sebastian and the railing. Sebastian pressed against him, his cheek flush to Blaine’s temple.

“We really should make up with them before we leave.”

“Yeah.”

“I know, you’ve been wanting me to for ages.”

“I haven’t wanted anything.” Sebastian laughed. “But you’ll be happier, won’t you, resolving things?”

“Probably …”

“You don’t exactly thrive on conflict.”

“It’s exhausting.” Blaine sighed. “I’ve had enough conflict to last a lifetime.”

“And you’ll probably face more.”

“Not if I can help it.” Blaine let out a heavier sigh. “I’ll talk to them. Work things out.”

“Alright.” Sebastian kissed his temple. “But let’s stage our next spat in private.”

Blaine winced. “It’s been embarrassing, hasn’t it?”

“Of course.” Blaine could practically hear Sebastian’s grin. “Though I think ‘being willing to embarrass yourself in public’ is like the number one requirement for performing.”

“You don’t ever seem embarrassed.”

“That’s because I’m shameless. But I’m sure _you_ think I’ve embarrassed myself.”

Blaine smiled a little. “No comment.”

“Oh, come on, what? Was it the One Direction number?”

“ _I_ _Want You Back_. Really not classy.”

“That year was a non-stop study in embarrassment for me, performing or otherwise.”

“And yet I still liked you.” Blaine grabbed Sebastian’s hands on the railing -- no pulling away this time -- and squeezed them. “Isn’t that funny.”

“Birds of a feather …”

“Are you calling me embarrassing?”

“Would I do that?”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be the only one.”

“Been called embarrassing before, have you?”

“Once or twice …”

“And do you agree?”

“Of course not.” Blaine grinned. “Haven’t you heard? I’m flawless.”

“And super hot and mega dreamy?”

“A handsome stranger told me once, yes.”

“Sort of heavy-handed with the adjectives, wasn’t he?”

“Now that you mention it, sometimes his compliments felt like madlibs.”

Sebastian laughed. “Adjective adjective?”

“Exactly.

“Then you must be the adjective-iest guy I know.” Sebastian squeezed him. “Why, you’re even worthy of a noun, a conjunction, a whole slew of verbs …”

“Conjunction junction, what’s your function?”

“Tonight I’m loving youuu … oh, look at that, a new mash-up.”

“Catchy.” Blaine smiled fondly. Another crack of thunder broke the sky, much louder than they’d been last night, and he looked up at the sky. “Do we still have that umbrella from Seattle?”

“Might be in the RV. ‘Course, Cooper and Rachel would have taken it …”

“I hate rain.” Blaine frowned. “It’s hell on my hair.”

The lightning finally flashed, a brief lancing across the dark clouds. It felt close, like the copper of it was still tingling against his skin.

“Obviously we should just stay in bed, then.” Sebastian shifted, kissing Blaine’s ear, his jaw, pressing in closer.

“Stay in bed? When we have more of the city to see?” Blaine rubbed his thumbs along the edge of Sebastian’s palms.

“She’s not going anywhere.” Sebastian bit his earlobe, tugging a little, and Blaine laughed, turning around so he could slide his arms over Sebastian’s shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. The railing dug into his back as he was pushed into it, and he figured just about anyone could see them if they looked up. _Eat your hearts out,_  he thought, happy and hot, the rush of rain to his back like a hand around his lungs while Sebastian's fingers slid down to his waistband.

“It’s a lazy stay-in kind of day,” Blaine decided, as Sebastian’s hand dipped into his underwear.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Sebastian pulled his hand out, and before Blaine could protest he was picked up, and carried to bed. He laughed, grabbing onto Sebastian and making sure he was pulled down too when he was throw into the bed. They landed in a happily uncomfortable tangle of limbs.

“I thought we were going to put on a show,” Blaine teased.

“I was consumed by wild jealousy.” Sebastian kissed him, resettling himself over Blaine, then added, “and I think we’ll get a cold if we stay out there.”

“But it’s so hot.”

“Just wait … it’ll get hotter.”

“That was terrible.”

“Oh? What would you try?”

“Umm …” Blaine squinted, then weakly offered, “‘Not as hot as me’?”

“I love it.”

“It’s just as terrible!”

“I know … somehow that just makes it hotter.” Sebastian smirked. “I guess I like it when you’re bad.”

He then proceeded to let out a startled laugh when Blaine flipped them, straddling Sebastian’s hips and shaking his head down at him.

“Maybe I should go get that James Dean jacket on …” Blaine said, and Sebastian gave him a very enthusiastic double-thumbs up.

“I’m all for that.”

Blaine grabbed Sebastian’s hands, fingers slipping into the loose curl of his fists to tangle their hands together, pushing them down against the bed and kissing Sebastian. His broad smile kept resurfacing, though, until he had to break away, gazing down at Sebastian. Sebastian stared back, green eyes bright, before surging up to kiss Blaine’s neck. Blaine gave a breathless laugh.

“I have too much fun with you,” he finally said.

He’d been used to a certain sanctity to sex, something like the quiet breaths of time that filled in between thunder cracks, when he’d been swept away by the exactness and care with which he was touched. His irreverent times with people-who-were-not-Kurt had been shocking in their difference, how callous he’d felt. With Sebastian, though, he didn’t feel heavy with the weight of what he was doing, good or bad. With Sebastian, he felt light. _Free_.

“No such thing,” Sebastian said, muffled, into his neck. “Not when it feels this good.” He gave a pointed roll of his hips, and Blaine ground back against him, the pressure and slide just right, his fingers tensing in their interlocked hold with Sebastian’s.

“Maybe you have the right idea …”

“Of course I do.”

Blaine kissed him again, and they didn’t talk much after that.

\--

The rain let up about midday, and they finally out out of bed.

They decided to just wander, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, everyone emerging as the sun finally pushed a few long yellow arms through the cloud cover to reach everyone. As he skipped over puddles, looking around with wide eyes, Blaine decided that even the three days they’d pencilled out for New Orleans weren’t anywhere near enough. He’d gotten used to the regret that they couldn’t spend all summer in the amazing places they’d visited, but it seemed that the longer they stayed in one place, the more he uncovered, and the more motivation there was to stay.

Once, he’d been accused of falling in love too quickly, and he did. Cute boys in coffee shops and lovers in the snow and songs on the radio and prints and patterns and cuts -- if something caught his eye, made him hum and want to sing along, he could devote himself to it with single-minded focus.

The things that mattered most though, they always took a little more time, building roots before they sprouted. It had been that way with bowties, with Kurt, with New York.

New Orleans was just a detour. One day soon, he’d have to get back to his real life. He wasn’t sure where or how that was going to be, but the fantasy of spending forever just navigating the streets in easy pace with the Mississippi would have to be left to drift away down the river itself.

Those thoughts could wait. The summer wasn’t over yet.

\--

Rachel finally reappeared, when Blaine texted her about dinner, looking exfoliated and much calmer. They met at a little place serving prawns by the bucket, and Rachel stood at the edge of their table with her hands folded in front of her like she was about to make a solemn state of address.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said, as Blaine got up to pull out her chair. She remained standing, and so did he, sharing a look with Sebastian. “I was … unkind. Particularly to you, Sebastian.”

“I get it,” Sebastian said, voice easy. “We’ve all been there. Don’t sweat it.”

“Exactly -- we’ve all been there. And I really do admire what you’ve done to change. I simply …” she hesitated, looking between them. “I guess I’ve been thinking things might go back to the way they were. But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

Blaine shook his head quietly.

“Embrace change,” Sebastian advised her. “It’s the least painful option.”

Rachel nodded, once, and then twice, shakier, brown eyes welling with tears. “I -- I know.”

“Don’t cry.” Sebastian half-got up as well, sending a panicked look to Blaine. “Shit!”

“Rachel …” Blaine rubbed her back, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“My dads are getting a divorce!” she blurted out, and dashed her fists beneath her eyes; Blaine hastened to extract his handkerchief, handing it over with sympathy. “I found out when I called them the other night. I’ve been in such a bad mood since, I’m sorry …”

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Blaine said, guiding her into sitting down and following, still rubbing her back. “I knew something was up but I was wrapped up in my own stuff. We should have talked way sooner … do you know why?”

“No! Just that it’s ‘been bad’ for a while.” She looked at him miserably. “I feel like I’m dead and in hell. Does love even exist anymore?”

“Of course it does,” Blaine said. “You know what we saw the other day? Two penguins, together for twenty years. Bethany? She just met a really great girl. Love doesn’t stop existing because of divorce or breakups or -- anything else. I guarantee you, your dads still love each other.”

“Then why …”

“They need to be apart,” Blaine said, sure. “But it’s not a reflection on love, or you. It just means they’re brave enough to admit what they really need.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “Twelve years ago, my mom was pelting my dad with shit and he was living in his office and I thought that was the end of them for good. Today? They slow dance whenever they see each other. Love’s a lot more complicated than marriage.”

Well. _That_ felt pointed. Blaine risked a glance at Sebastian, who watched Rachel with a slight frown.

“And my mom and dad.” Blaine patted Rachel’s hands where they twisted up his handkerchief, casting an eye on its tender seams. “They’re still friends. They’re always there when I really need them. Family’s … well, it’s family.”

Rachel looked between them, drying her eyes again and swallowing. “I guess you two make some compelling points.”

“Wanna hear the best one?” Sebastian asked, and when she nodded curiously, he said, “double the parental households -- double the stuff. Post-divorce guilt is _awesome_ for being spoiled.”

Rachel gave a choked laugh. “I do like stuff.”

“Who doesn’t?” Sebastian grabbed the pitcher of water they’d been provided with, pouring out a glass and handing it to her. Rachel stared at the glass, then gave another wet laugh, accepting it with a quiet _Thank you_.

“It’ll get better,” Blaine assured her. “Lemons into lemonade, remember?”

“You’re right.” She took a sip, clearing her throat. “I will _try_ to improve my attitude.”

“If you don’t, we might be forced to do something horrifically gay and cheer you up through _song_ ,” Sebastian warned, grinning when Blaine swatted at him. “Save us all the horror.”

“Let’s do karaoke again!” Rachel said, eyes widening. “I’m afraid I ruined our last night.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Blaine replied, taking his handkerchief back and folding it neatly. “But I’m all for that.”

“Then it’s a plan.” Sebastian looked around for their water. “But first? I’m going to eat my weight in butter and shrimp.”

“And Cooper?” Rachel asked.

“I’ll text him,” Blaine said.

\--

_Blaine (7:03): Karaoke tonight with all three of us?_

_Cooper (7:30): Busy. Another time?_

_Blaine (7:31): Cooper, we have to talk._

_Blaine (7:34): We said a lot of stuff last night._

_Blaine (7:42): I want to talk it out while sober and not angry and throwing punches._

_Cooper (8:02): I want to talk too._

_Cooper (8:02): But I really am busy. I know I suck at this, but I’m busy._

_Blaine (8:03): Then stop sucking. Come talk about it._

_Cooper (10:00): Tomorrow._

\--

Blaine nearly put his phone away after that last, disappointing, mysterious text from Cooper, but he decided to check Instagram first.

The breakdown was clear -- Warblers mostly commenting on ones with Sebastian to remark on how “chillaxed” (to quote Richard) their former Captain looked; the New Directioners added a few “dude, what?” to those but mostly focused on his scenic moments and selfies. One caught his eye in particular -- it was Santana, asking, “ _I_ _s that Berry’s ankle?_ ” He showed it to Rachel, who put down her drink with a _clack._

“You haven’t been posting pictures of me, have you?”

“No.” Blaine raised his eyebrows. “Santana’s just part eagle.”

“Well …” Rachel bit her lip. “You can. But don’t tag me! I got so many Instagram followers with _That’s So Rachel_ and I had to delete my account after they started sending me the most _awful_ comments.”

“I’ll only post if you’re sure …” Blaine said cautiously.

“No, I want you to.” Rachel smiled at him. “Lemonade, right? I can’t make things better in hiding.”

Blaine squeezed her hand. They were in yet another karaoke bar, though this one was more professional, focused acoustic performances and a capella, with a piano player to accompany people if they so chose, plus a guitar set to the side. The atmosphere was low-key, kind of a poetry jam feel, but the music was all very good. That seemed to be the norm for New Orleans -- on the welcome signs in they’d declared Louisiana the birthplace of American music, and it might beat out Austin and New York combined for the rhythm of the streets. He felt it most here; people who might be dedicated amateurs or professionals of some degree, but in a casual setting, not drunken college kids or lonely middle-aged types or any other usual karaoke bar fare, just people who knew how to sing and liked to do it. Right now, Sebastian was talking to the piano man, who nodded. Sebastian then took the stage, as next to him, Rachel reached for his phone.

“May I?” she asked. “I can’t check Instagram myself.”

“Go ahead.” Blaine opened his phone, handing it over and she took over, opening the app and scrolling through it. Blaine left her to it, watching Sebastian grab the microphone, adjusting it to his height and looking out over the dark crowds of people arranged around wooden tables with little candlelit lamps that lit them up with a warm glow. The piano player started on a tune that took a few moments to place, and then Blaine was grinning.

 _Well, she was just seventeen_  
_You know what I mean_  
_And the way she looked was way beyond compare_  
_So how could I dance with another_ _  
When I saw her standing there_ ...

“He really is talented,” Rachel said while Sebastian sang, and then, “ _very_ talented.”

Blaine looked over, only to see his phone shining brightly around a picture of Sebastian in bed. He went a bit pink. Four am ‘fuck you, I’m happy’ declarations after dramatic revelations and fights were well and good at the time, but Blaine’s _mom_ followed his account. (Fortunately, she was still on a cruise in the Caribbean by his last knowledge. Undoubtedly, she’d be proud.) “I though it wasn’t _not_ tasteful,” he defended.

“It’s tasteful. Tasteful … and bold.” Rachel was scrolling through the comments. He hadn’t been able to read those, a little embarrassed by the initial innuendo-laden jokes. Over her shoulder, he could see stuff now like “tmi dude” from someone he didn’t know, and -- he didn’t believe his eyes. Rachel saw it at the same time he did. “Oh _no_.”

 _kurtehummel:_ Okay.

One word. Blaine stared at it, imagining the countless intonations, inflections, implications, that Kurt’s clever voice could give that one word. _Okay_. Wishfully: Okay, I’m fine with this, I wish you the best, I love you and I want you to be happy. Tentatively: Okay, I know I have to be fine with this, I love you and I want you to be happy. Horribly: Okay, you slut, I always knew that you were playing around with him. I hope you die unhappy. Possibly: Okay, but I thought we were going to get back together? I love you. Unlikely: Okay, I gave him the tape and now I gave him you, I get it.

Blaine took his phone back, staring down at the comment.

“I thought he’d unfollow you.”

“He did.” Blaine wondered at that. Had Kurt been keeping an eye on him online? Blaine had done that too, seen the reinvention of _Pamela Lansbury/One Three Hill_ as _Queen Vera_ , seen Kurt make plans with friends and check in at Callbacks and clubs and continue living his New York life with seeming ease -- but he knew how the internet could lie. Had Kurt really been curled up, miserable and scrolling social media, seeing Blaine slowly disappear? Had he _cared?_ It wasn't like he'd said a word when Blaine had dropped out, hadn't apparently asked after him when he'd slunk out of New York with his tail between his legs, hadn't -- hadn't done a lot of things Blaine expected or wanted, and maybe that had always been the problem. Maybe they'd never been as in synch as he'd always thought, always felt, and all those times he'd been left off balance weren't supposed to be as normal as they'd felt.

Zigging and zagging, and once again, Blaine left with no idea how to react.

“I’m sure it’s a shock, but he doesn’t seem too upset …”

He wanted to find Kurt and hug him. He wanted to find Kurt and yell at him. He wanted to never find Kurt, and find himself.

“It’s my turn,” Blaine said, setting his phone down to applaud Sebastian alongside everyone else though truthfully he’d missed most of it. He hoped Sebastian hadn’t noticed; inattention during a performance was considered one of the deathly sins of the Warblers.

“Hi.” Sebastian didn’t seem to have seen anything, smiling as he bowed down to give Blaine a quick kiss, still looking flush with the excitement of performing.

“You were wonderful.” Blaine spoke honestly -- Sebastian was always wonderful. Fleetingly, he wondered what Sebastian would think of Kurt's comment, but he pushed that thought deep down and away -- he wasn't sure anyone would come out of that conversation unscathed.

“The floor is yours,” Sebastian said, patting him on the butt as Blaine got up and started to wind his way towards the stage. Because of it was acoustic, songs weren’t picked in advance, and half a plan to sing some Beatles himself slipped away as he marched up the short flight of steps to the stage. As always, indecision and doubt dripped down and away between the boards of the stage as confidence bloomed in its place, a flower that no amount of inattention could ever truly kill.

He knew what he'd be doing. He knew what he was feeling. Tomorrow, he'd be calling Phillipa to talk it out, but for now, he could express himself as he best knew how.

He was angry. He was justified. He was -- proud.

He asked the piano man if he could play, and got an affirmative nod; the man helped him bring the microphone over and adjust it so Blaine could sit and sing. As these were set up, Blaine's mind worked furiously over that single (taunting? apologetic? wishful? angry?) _Okay_. His chosen song was one that had caught him whenever he’d heard it on the radio, on his playlists, the tune threading this way and that in and out of his past months of misery, but he'd never quite able to sing along because it felt like too much of a betrayal. Maybe it still was -- he didn’t care. Did he owe Kurt anything, in this space he was trying to carve out for himself? If he was ever going to have the room to breathe he needed, he had to let it out. He needed to let Kurt go.

Blaine settled on the piano seat, took a deep breath, looking out over the faceless audience as he draped his hands over the keys. He didn’t need to see them, know who they were, to feel their energy, their attention, their acknowledgement … he smiled slightly, and tapped the first key.

It rang out through the silent room. Blaine closed his eyes, and started to sing.

 _Days like this I want to drive away_  
_Pack my bags and watch your shadow fade_  
_You chewed me up and spit me out_  
_Like I was poison in your mouth_  
_You took my light, you drained me down_  
_But that was then and this is now_  
_  
Now look at me_ ...

\--

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs this chapter: Basia Bulat's _[Heart of My Own](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnbE1IBCGQ8)_ , the Beatles _[I Saw Her Standing There](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oroSpLjkCvo)_ , and of course Katy Perry's _[Part of Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1R_h3HkX2oA)_ , inspired by Darren's performance of it. Catch me any given day of the week discussing how this is the perfect Blaine post-klaine song to sing, as it parallels Blaine's version of _[All of Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhUrdaQK_mI)_ so nicely (plus, Katy Perry of it paralleling _[Teenage Dream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwZsNKm6j3I)_ ) ... which is why it was one of the main inspirations for this fic! I'm excited to have him finally sing it.
> 
> Also: Seb and Blaine's little "mash-up" referencing Schoolhouse Rock's _[Conjunction Junction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPoBE-E8VOc)_ and _[Tonight (I'm Lovin' You)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4eLlmfTZrA)_ by Enrique Iglesias, which is one of those very Seblaine songs about getting freaky in a club ... both versions haha.


	12. find light in the beautiful sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back, back again? hi, friends. so many thanks to every wonderful person out there who has remained thinking about this fic and left your wonderful reviews and kudos. ♥ your support made this possible through the 40 rewrites (of which only the first two scenes remain unchanged!) and the usual life drama, i cannot emphasize enough how much you all mean to me and i see and acknowledge and am deeply grateful for every bit of the love this fic gets. ♥♥♥
> 
> FYI i have gone back and added some more endnotes to the chapters, linking to songs, pictures, fashion pieces, and other stuff featured in the fic that i used while writing. so feel free to check them out. :~)

The next morning, they left New Orleans.

Cooper wandered up to Kelly, bleary-eyed and clutching Starbucks, smiling winningly. “So this is where you guys wandered off to.”

Blaine could have hit him. He settled for a glare, remembering Phillipa’s words from their last FaceTime session: _Interrogate your violent reactions to situations_ _as if seeing them in someone else._

He wasn’t sure he’d like the guy who just socked his brother for being annoying.

“We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be,” Blaine said, eyebrow raised. “Where have you been?”

“Around.” Cooper waved a hand. “Admiring the road we call life.”

“Whatever.” Blaine hid a yawn. He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night (his gaze flickered to Sebastian, who was rubbing his fading bruise) and while he was used to his fair share of sleepless nights, he needed a great deal more rest to deal with Cooper right now. He waited a moment longer, but Cooper said nothing else, just grunting.

So. No apology then, no discussion.

How did he keep getting surprised by this?

“You missed Beth,” Blaine persisted, despite himself. Beth had given them all long hugs and some leftovers to take on the road, along with a promise to tell him how her date with Grace went, but then she’d had to go run to work. Cooper nodded absently.

“That’s nice.” Cooper opened the door and bounced in. “I’m kind of knackered, you know, as our British cousins would say --”

“We don’t _have_ any British cousins --”

“So I’m going to sleep. Someone else can drive, yeah?” Cooper leaned out the door, beaming, then disappeared inside. Rachel (looking a little put out at Cooper’s lack of greeting) ran in after him, and Sebastian and Blaine shared a look.

“I don’t know what I expected,” Blaine said, and Sebastian reached out to pat his cheek.

“I know,” Sebastian said. “Come on. You’ll feel better once you’re on the road again.”

\--

Sebastian was right. Of course he was.

Blaine had taken the wheel, hoping that having all their lives in his hands would stop him from doing something stupid like confronting Cooper again, but his tension melted away along the grey-green whip of the road past the window. The day was hot and bright, and he rolled down the window, cranked up the radio, and opened himself to the promise of the road. It felt like it had been a lifetime since they’d driven anywhere, and he’d almost forgotten how comforting the rock and rhythm of Kelly was, how much he liked losing himself to this simple task. Letting the force of the wind steal away his words, he sang along to the radio.

 _Baby put your arms around me_  
_Tell me I'm a problem_  
_Know I'm not the girl you thought you knew and that you wanted_  
_Underneath the pretty face is something complicated_  
_I come with a side of trouble_ _  
But I know that's why you're staying_ …

They crossed the border into Mississippi and stopped for brunch in Biloxi. (The hovering tension of the RV’s various feuds drifting up again like heat from the sidewalk, weakening Sebastian’s crack about the town sounding like “Some kind of cleaning agent.”) After their terse meal during which Cooper ate his eggs with unnecessary smugness -- Blaine maybe being a bit biased -- they split up to wander in opposite directions down a beautiful boardwalk the cute little coastal city boasted. Then they were back in Kelly and headed for Mobile, Alabama for dinner. It was a low-slung city with classic Southern architecture and a few odd, tall towers that made everything else look shorter. They weren’t there long, just parking by a few stores to pick up some needed items; then they were off for Tallahassee, getting there by nightfall.

As they rested against a railing where they could watch the buildings of the city light up with a multitude of glimmering window-squares and colours under the night sky, seeing the glitter of their reflections in the gently lapping waves, he reached up to tug at his collar.

Tallahassee reminded him of Boise, a little, in how its main road cut through the city, but the buildings and people marked the different. The familiarity he felt maybe came more from the state, the new sea-dipped quality the humidity had. He’d been to Florida before, on family vacations years ago to visit his mom’s parents who had retired there, to a wealthy gated community whose main problem was little purse dogs getting snatched by alligators. His grandparents had since passed, and left Blaine with -- complicated -- memories. They’d always been mildly disapproving of their daughter and her choices (and, Blaine suspected with no small heavy heart, the fact that her youngest son looked like his not-suited-for-a-Midwestern-white-beauty-queen father) and Blaine still remembered sullen day of walking around the endless greens of the beautifully maintained golf courses behind his mother, brother, and grandparents, wishing his collar didn’t feel so tight and chafing under the sun.

Maybe he should change. Blaine liked polos, but you had to dress for the weather, didn’t you?

“Camping,” Cooper said, staring at Blaine, not the water. “We should camp. The Apalachicola is right next door.”

“Ugh,” Sebastian said. “No, we should find another four-plus star hotel to stay in. That was nice. _That_ is how you should travel.”

Cooper ignored Sebastian -- it seemed if he couldn’t scare Sebastian off, he’d settle for freezing him out.

“Camping,” he repeated, and reached over to run a hand through Blaine’s hair. Blaine batted him away, and Cooper pulled a familiar look of displeasure as he wiped his hand off, and it was -- like old times. Blaine had to smile, though it soon faded. “There are RV stations there. Kelly needs maintenance.”

Even Sebastian couldn’t argue with that, though he did let out a groan that made Rachel laugh.

“Camping it is, then.”

It took a little while, driving slowly through the night-eerie skinny trees dripping with moss and strange animal noises, but they found an occupied campground, with two other RVs nearby. They parked Kelly and used the headlights to see as they set up their tents. Then they stood there, awkwardly hovering for a moment. Cooper looked at Blaine, opened his mouth, then shook his head and disappeared into Kelly. He re-emerged with a pack of beer, wrapped an arm around Rachel, and went to join the campfire their neighbours had set up with a cheery, “Tally ho!”

Sebastian and Blaine, left to their own devices, grabbed a few beers themselves then crawled to the roof of the RV. Despite the darkness around them the roof was still hot, but not uncomfortably so -- during the day, Blaine would bet you could cook an egg on the metal. He undid his bowtie and leaned back on his hand, taking a sip of the cool beer. Sebastian lay down, long legs dangling off the edge, and rested his head on Blaine’s lap. Together, they stared up at the stars -- maybe not as breathtaking as they’d been in big sky country, but still beautiful, twinkling away peacefully like scattered gems in the black velvet sky, the wisps of clouds nothing more than a shy night’s veil. They didn’t speak, the only sounds the rustle of the sticky-slow wind passing through the skinny-smooth trees, the plop of things in the swamp, the calls of distant animals, and the chatter and music coming from the other RVs -- but that might as well have been coming from a hundred miles away, it seemed so remote.

One song did break through the haze of beer and heat of the night, though.

 _What would I do without your smart mouth?_  
_Drawing me in, and you kicking me out_  
_You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down_  
_What's going on in that beautiful mind_  
_I'm on your magical mystery ride_ _  
And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright_ …

Blaine could almost feel piano keys beneath his fingers instead of hot metal and cool glass.

“As far as love songs go, this one’s not bad,” Sebastian said, head shifting on Blaine’s thigh. He was maybe looking at Blaine now; Blaine didn’t check, only taking a long sip of his beer.

“I don’t know,” Blaine finally said, a little melancholy. “It’s kind of selfish, if you ask me.”

“Selfish?” Sebastian listened more. _You're my end and my beginning, even when I lose I'm winning._ “Maybe too sacrificing. I don’t know. Is that love?”

“‘If it’s love, it comes at much too high a cost?’” Blaine huffed a laugh. “I don’t know, either. I think … there’s a difference between sharing yourself and giving up yourself. And it depends entirely on how you’re received.”

“Right …”

“Sebastian.” Blaine wanted to say things, but they weren’t even fully-formed ideas yet, so he brushed them aside. “What do you think is a good love song? What’s your favourite?”

“ _Closer_.”

“... Tegan and Sara?”

“Do I _look_ like a closeted lesbian?”

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

“Nine Inch Nails.” Sebastian shifted his head higher on Blaine’s thigh, tone dropping. “ _I wanna fuck you like an animal_ …”

“Be serious.”

“Who says I’m not?”

“I know you.” Blaine said, rolling his eyes when Sebastian laughed. “That song’s really more about his destructive hatred and obsession than sex you know --”

“Still sexy.” Sebastian paused. “Fine. Do you know Nick Drake?”

“The English musician? Folk-guitar?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian sat up, now looking off into the dark of the woods, turned away from Blaine, his voice measured. “ _Time Has Told Me._ Okay?”

Blaine cast through his mental catalogue, smiling as the lyrics floated to him through memory. It was a surprisingly earnest choice. He hummed a second then started to sing: “ _Time has told me, you're a rare rare find … a troubled cure, for a troubled mind_ …”

Sebastian abruptly rounded on him, hand sliding along the nape of Blaine’s neck and tugging him into a kiss. Blaine’s startled sound was muffled, along with further words, and he pushed at Sebastian’s chest, a little confused.

“I didn’t ask for a serenade,” Sebastian said, pulling back.

Blaine frowned. “I’m sorry?”

Sebastian looked at him inscrutably for a second, then shook his head.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that.” Sebastian kissed him again, on the corner of his mouth, like an apology. “Blaine Anderson serenades are always welcome. But I had other plans for tonight and if you start singing people will come running and I want you all to myself.”

It didn’t sound entirely honest, but Sebastian started to kiss down his jaw, his neck, and Blaine tilted his chin, breath catching as he was distracted. Sebastian’s fingers slid into the gape of Blaine’s collar, left open when he’d undone his bowtie earlier, stroking along his collarbone. He dangled his hand with the beer over Sebastian’s shoulder, keeping him close as heat bloomed with each press of Sebastian’s mouth.

“We’re on top of an RV,” Blaine pointed out, as Sebastian’s other hand started to ruck up his shirt, sliding underneath to feel skin.

“We won’t roll around,” Sebastian murmured against Blaine’s neck, the words tickling. Blaine shivered.

“People will see.”

“Only if they climb the ladder.” Sebastian started to deftly undo Blaine’s belt with one hand; Blaine’s hips lifted automatically to help.

“They’ll hear.”

“That’s why you have to be quiet for me.” He could _hear_ Sebastian’s smirk. “Think you can do that, sexy?”

“Can _you_?” Blaine challenged, and Sebastian chuckled warmly, nipping at the bob of his Adam’s apple as he tugged Blaine’s pants down, fisting his cock. Blaine gasped.

“Not a problem for me,” Sebastian replied as he started to sinuously drag himself down Blaine’s body, hand moving slowly and drawing staggered breaths out of Blaine. “My mouth’s gonna be full.”

He winked, and with a sing-song, “ _I drink the honey inside your hive, you are the reason I stay alive ..._ ” that dissolved into a hum he went down on Blaine. Stunned stupid, Blaine stuck his fist in his mouth and bit down, hard.

He was pretty sure he still made noise, though; thank god for that radio blasting.

\--

That night in their tent, it was far too hot to cuddle, but Sebastian still drew up to Blaine, curling around him. Blaine dozed fitfully, overheated, but couldn’t bring himself to move away. At one point he thought he heard a murmur of his name, but when he whispered Sebastian’s back, he got no response.

He wondered what Sebastian was dreaming about.

\--

Blaine quite literally bumped into Cooper as he came back from an early-morning photography trip of the woods, nearly dropping his camera in shock. He glared at Cooper.

“Careful. This is my only camera.”

“We could buy a new one,” Cooper dismissed. Blaine ground his teeth. “Blainey … you were very antisocial last night. Didn’t see you at all.”

“I was socializing.” Blaine paused a beat. “With _Sebastian_.”

Cooper grimaced. Blaine waited; had Cooper come looking for him? Had he wanted to talk?

(He had no idea how hope kept sneaking up on him like that.)

“And here I thought you’d been eaten by a bear,” Cooper said. “Just remember -- if you ever meet one, punch it in the eye.”

“I think that’s sharks, actually.”

“Oh, so only sharks have sensitive eyes now? You’re no scientist, Squirt.”

“Whatever.” Blaine shook his head wearily. The day had dawned bright and hot, even in the maze of trees; he just wanted to get back to the relative coolness of Kelly, whom Cooper had taken on an early-morning RV maintenance trip. “Did you want something?”

“I …” Cooper’s mouth moved silently, then he said, “I’m sorry you’re mad.”

_Seriously?_

“That’s not an apology.”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, but you’re not sorry about what you _did_.”

Cooper looked sincerely confused, but that didn’t help Blaine’s mood any. Sweat trickled down his neck and he swore it was chased by a bug; he slapped at it impatiently. His neck stung.

“You know what,” Blaine said, before Cooper could continue. “Ask Rachel about it. Better yet: don’t bother apologizing to _me_ until you’ve apologized to Sebastian.”

Cooper’s expression shifted, jaw setting. “I’m not going to apologize to him.”

“Well, it seems we’re at an impasse, aren’t we?”

Blaine marched past Cooper then, shaking off Cooper’s attempt to grab his arm. Back at Kelly, Rachel was saying her goodbyes to people from the other RV and Sebastian was sitting on Kelly’s hood, feet braced on the front bumper, drinking his morning coffee. He glanced up as Blaine came over.

“Talking to your brother?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Because I don’t want you fighting with family over me --”

“I _said_ , I don’t want to talk about it. Please.”

Sebastian regarded him for a long moment then silently spread his legs in open invitation and Blaine stepped between them. As Sebastian gave a rub to his back he accepted Sebastian’s coffee, taking a deep drink. The extra caffeine was very much needed after that exhausting encounter with Cooper. He was just starting to relax again when --

“Everything packed up?” Cooper asked loudly. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Blaine sighed, stepping away from Sebastian, but offered his hand. Sebastian took it, and Blaine helped him down from the hood. Rachel came over, smiling brightly and looking utterly unfazed by the heat of the day as she practically floated into the RV, humming to herself.

Blaine had to admit, he begrudged her good mood just a smidge.

\--

They drove down to Tampa. The temperature only continued to rise.

Blaine, anxious about their old girl breaking down again, made Cooper keep to the speed limit as he drove, and when they got there and found a motel, Blaine made him circle the lot three times until a spot opened up that was shaded by an overhang. Naturally, Cooper looked ready to strangle him by the end of this, but Blaine could outfox his brother any day and was up and out of the RV before Cooper could start in on him, going into the front office to rent a room.

Unfortunately, the only room available was cramped, with two doubles separated by just a small nightstand which bore a lightly swaying hula girl on it. They silently took this in, then all seemed to come to the silent but mutual realization that nobody was getting laid tonight.

“I foresee moods only getting worse,” Sebastian muttered to Rachel, who giggled and gave him a slap to the arm.

“I have an idea, Mr. Smythe,” she said, darting a scheming glance at Blaine and Cooper. “Why don’t we switch things up. You and I will share one, as further proof of how nobly we have laid our past animosities to bed, which leaves the brothers Anderson to take the other …”

“No,” Blaine said, crossing his arms.

“Aw, c’mon Blainey. It’ll just be like old times.”

“What old times? When I was four and had nightmares and came to you and you told me to get lost?”

“Aunty Catherine’s cottage.”

“Again, you locked me out. I slept in the dog bed!”

“That time in Cebu --”

“You -- okay, fine, but only because your bed caught _fire_ and you stole mine!”

“Hey, how was I supposed to know how flammable rayon is?”

“ _Anyone_ would know that!”

“Guys,” Sebastian said, eyebrow raised. “Calm down. Maybe you should be forced to spend some quiet time together …”

“Then it’s decided,” Rachel said, before Blaine could respond. She picked up her suitcase. “I’m going to go change into my swimsuit.”

She disappeared into the bathroom, and with a groan, Blaine gave up, privately thinking he could just get out of this later. He took out his swimsuit and went to the RV to change; Sebastian joined him. Blaine gave him a side-eye as they stripped.

“You’re supposed to take my side, you know.”

“What? And deny you a chance to build character?”

Blaine threw his shorts at Sebastian’s head, and naked and laughing and utterly unapologetic, Sebastian caught them then came over, looping the shorts around Blaine’s neck to tug him into a kiss. Blaine pressed his hands to Sebastian’s chest but didn’t push him away, kissing back.

“Friends don’t let friends ruin vacations with fights,” Sebastian murmured against his lips. Blaine paused -- _friends_? -- then sighed.

“I know …” he pulled back. “I guess I just feel like if I stop being angry with him, I’ll roll over and forgive him the way I have a thousand times before, and he won’t learn anything.”

“Sometimes people need a little ass-kicking like that,” Sebastian agreed. “Just … try to avoid doing anything you’ll regret, okay?”

“And deny myself the chance to build character?”

Sebastian laughed. “Okay, point …” he stepped away to tug on his swimsuit. Once they were ready they grabbed a pair of beers and went to sit on Kelly’s steps, waiting for Cooper and Rachel to return. Seeing as how it took enough time for them to get through most of their beers, Blaine wasn’t surprised to see that Rachel had a very satisfied wiggle to her hips going on as she exited the motel.

“Man, your brother’s a horndog.”

Blaine gave him a disbelieving look; it was a ridiculous statement coming from Sebastian, who lived and breathed sex. “Really, Sebastian?”

“What? Not _girrrl power_ enough? Fine, Rachel’s a horndog too.”

“Not what I meant!”

“Hello boys!” Rachel sauntered up, smiling widely. “Ready to hit the beach? I’m feeling very … energized.”

Sebastian _woofed_ at her (Blaine elbowed him) then stood up with a snicker at Rachel’s puzzled expression. “Yes. C’mon, drinks on me, Berry. If you’re going to be the first girl I ever sleep with I think we’ll both need to some liquid courage …”

Blaine got out of the way as a giggling Rachel entered the RV after Sebastian -- they went to the kitchen, where Sebastian mixed her a drink with great flair. Cooper soon joined them having locked up the motel, and Blaine hovered awkwardly at the top of the steps, staring down at him.

“You should drive,” Blaine finally said. “The rest of us have been drinking.”

Cooper frowned then whined, “But I drove us down here! Four freakin’ hours!”

“You should have considered that before you decided to take so long to get here.”

“But I was -- oh, forget it, you’re just jealous.” Cooper groaned and bounded into Kelly, nudging Blaine aside as he made for the driver’s seat. “Ungrateful little brat …” Blaine ignored him, and went to pull out his laptop, figuring it was time to update his journal.

 _On way to the beach, Tampa_ _  
_ _August 1st, 2014_

_Forgiveness is hard._

He stared at the cursor, trying to think of how to continue. His gaze drifted to Sebastian, who was clinking glasses with Rachel.

_I always thought I was forgiving but I guess not. But I still feel like I do it too much. It’s hard because you’re supposed to stand up for yourself, but you’re also supposed to not hold grudges. Maybe it’s just a fake it until you make it thing._

_I think Kurt and I had a conversation about that once. Not forgiveness, but acting like you know what you’re doing when you really don’t. I don’t really remember. We have too much history to sort through._

_Is forgiveness easier or harder to find with lots of history?_

\--

They ended up at Treasure Island beach, white sands and warm gulf waters, umbrellas brooming brightly like a field of flowers, and kites circling the air like large colourful birds that swooped and wove around each other across the clear blue sky. The whole effect breathed summer in a way that was hard to describe, but Blaine was feeling to the soles of his feet. He wiggled his toes in his flip-flops, then followed Sebastian out onto the beach, the heat much more bearable with the promise of water.

Cooper and Rachel sailed off together like a movie-star couple tanned arm in tanned arm, so it was just the two of them.

“So where first? Water? Tanning? Drinks? Volleyball?”

“Water, definitely.”

“Race you there?”

Blaine took one look at Sebastian’s smirk, then straightened. “Oh, you’re on.”

Sebastian took off like a shot, but Blaine was right there with him. Sebastian might have longer legs but Blaine was wilier and a great jumper; he cleared a sunbathing family in a single bound, ducked under a line of umbrellas, lost a flip-flop dodging a sandcastle, and then ditched the second one in his final break for the water, which he hit with great big splashing steps.

Triumphant, he flashed a wide grin at Sebastian, who was behind him.

“Having fun eating my dust, Smythe?”

Sebastian didn’t stop running, and Blaine hastily stumbled back a few steps before Sebastian tackled him, Blaine catching sight of a flash of white teeth bared in a grin as they went down in a tangle of limbs in the water. He spluttered, water going up his nose, and gave Sebastian a punch to the side. They wrestled for a few confused and water clumsy-slick moments in the waves before Blaine got himself righted, an arm around Sebastian’s neck.

“Sore loser!”

“I was watching your ass, I forgot all about running and had to get straight to groping.”

“Sore. Loser.”

“Who gets to grope you. I’m okay with that.” Sebastian’s hand went to do that, and Blaine squeaked, giving Sebastian another punch. And then they were just floating together, bobbing in the waves and grinning at each other. Blaine traced the way seawater dripped down the fine lines of Sebastian’s face, suspended in his lashes and trembling from his lower lip, and gave into the urge for a quick, salty kiss. Distantly, he heard a noise of disgust. He pulled back, but Sebastian only smiled at him like they were the only two people there, mutual castaways. Blaine smiled back.

“Race you to that buoy?”

Sebastian didn’t bother responding; just let go of Blaine and started a powerful front crawl. Grinning, Blaine chased him.

\--

After a while they ended up back on the beach.

Blaine had no clue where his flip-flops had gone, which should have concerned him more, but it was hard to worry when Sebastian and him collapsed in the surf together, letting the tide wash over their feet like an indecisive blanket, flat on their backs with the sand in their hair and staring up at the sky with its dance of kites.

“You ever fly a kite as a kid?” Sebastian asked. “I never did.”

“Yeah, a few times. My dad grew up on these big kite-flying festivals before he came to the States so he wanted to pass it on to me. Mom put a stop to it after I nearly got carried off by one though …”

“Always been a shrimp, huh?”

Blaine splashed some water at Sebastian. “It was a big kite!”

Sebastian stood up. Blaine looked up at him, confused, and accepted Sebastian’s hand to get up himself.

“C’mon,” Sebastian said. “You’re going to teach me how to do this, shrimp.”

“Nicknames my brother would call me? Not hot.”

“What? Wouldn’t like me calling you Squirt?”

Blaine shuddered. “I guess it’s a good thing we’re not sharing a bed tonight.” He shoved Sebastian. “Come on, beanpole. Let’s go find a kite.”

“Beanpole?”

“Would you prefer stringbean?”

“... No, beanpole’s good.”

Laughing, Blaine led him to a group of people their age having fun with a neon yellow kite shaped like a large eagle. They made introductions, and soon everyone was shouting advice at Sebastian as he handled a kite for the first time, squinting up against the sun’s glare as he watched it maneuver. Blaine ended up singing:

 _I want to fly like an eagle, to the sea_  
_Fly like an eagle_  
_Let my spirit carry me_  
_I want to fly, oh, yeah,  
_ _Fly right into the future …_

And it made Sebastian laugh so hard he could no longer stop the lines from tangling with each other. Once he’d gotten his fill, Blaine took a turn, and then their new friends had to go so they said their goodbyes. Sebastian and Blaine filled up the rest of the afternoon swimming, joining a game of volleyball, tanning, and ducking inside a changing tent to make out. Blaine was thoroughly exhausted by the time they were back at the RV by sundown, to find Cooper and Rachel were inside, having what sounded like a disagreement. Blaine and Sebastian hesitated, sharing a long look, and it seemed they had nosiness in common because they leaned forward to listen in. It wasn’t exactly a screaming row though so they only caught snatches, like Rachel saying “-- really just immature --” and Cooper’s melodramatic “but if _HAMLET_ could do it, why not me?” and soon they stepped back to sit on the parking lot kerb to give them some privacy.

“Wonder what that’s about.”

“Maybe he stepped on one of her lines.”

“Hush …”

Eventually the door flung open and Rachel marched out, red-faced. She heaved out a huff they could hear thirty feet away, then noticed them with a start.

“Oh! Hello, my best gays --”

“I like you, Berry, but I’ll punt you across the parking lot if you call me that again --”

“My _boys_ , how was your day?”

“Great,” Blaine said. “Yours?”

“Wonderful,” she replied, then shot a glare back at the RV. “Ready for dinner in Ybor City?”

“Definitely.”

\--

They headed back to the motel to dress up a little, then took a cab to Ybor City.

A historic district near downtown Tampa that had been founded and built up by immigrants working for the cigar trade before gentrification had gotten hold of it, it stood out uniquely in the more beachy industrial landscape of polished Tampa. Yellow trolleys trundled cheerfully down the street, past preserved historical storefronts with painted carved wooden details, under intricate green bridges, and by a large hall with a bright sign declaring CENTRO YBOR. It was beautiful, and they went for a stroll in the early evening air as they took in the sights. There was a lot of shopping but most of it was closed now; Blaine was sad to look through a window of an upscale thrift store and see an adorable blue plaid bowtie on a mannequin, locked up behind a closed sign.

“There’ll be other bowties, my little fashion plate,” Sebastian said, tugging him along. Blaine cast a final longing glance, and followed.

For dinner they went to the famous Columbia Restaurant, which had been in operation since 1905. It was a fun and delicious mix of Spanish and Cuban cuisine and they ate their fill and then some, and somewhere between appetizer and dessert they actually found a little peace in their foursome.

In fact, at one point Cooper had looked at Sebastian’s dinner and said, “How’s the crab?”

“It’s great.” Sebastian then had nudged his plate towards Cooper. “Let’s swap. Then we get to try both.”

Cooper agreed, though he hoarded his new plate with a suspicious look at Sebastian like he thought Sebastian might have poisoned it. And of course things fell apart again over the bill -- Cooper had sneered out a truly unnecessary, “Why doesn’t the spoiled brat pay?” and Sebastian had, with almost automatic grace, replied, “That’s so generous of you, thanks Cooper,” and Rachel had leapt up to pay before anyone could start swinging.

As they left the restaurant, Sebastian marched off ahead in a huff and Cooper lingered behind, muttering to himself, hands jammed deep in his pockets despite them both being raised by a mother who had scolded them for doing that. Rachel took Blaine by the arm as they walked between the two grumpy men.

“Maybe _they_ should be the one sharing a bed tonight,” Rachel said, _sotto voce_.

“No,” Blaine hissed, an instinctive, forever-second-best-to-handsome-big-brother wince tearing across his face. Smoother, he continued: “No, they definitely shouldn’t.”

Rachel looked at him shrewdly. “You don’t think Sebastian would …?”

“No,” Blaine said. “Or. I don’t know. I don’t think he would. But anyone can do anything, can’t they?”

“Maybe,” Rachel said, doubtful. “But have a little faith all the same.”

“Faith in what, exactly?”

“That things are going to work out for you.” Rachel smiled up at him. “Because they should, so they will.”

Blaine slipped his arm free so he could tug her into his side in a half-hug, their mutual affection sweetly painting the sea-warm night air under the soft halogen glow of the streetlamps. Blaine looked around, breathing it in with a wide smile, and then spotted the blinking lights advertising a nightclub and impulsively announced, “Let’s go dancing!”

“I’m tired,” Cooper complained.

“Then don’t go,” Blaine shot back.

“Cooper,” Rachel wheedled. “I’ll need a date …”

Cooper gave her a look. “You have Blaine for that, don’t you?”

Blaine frowned. “Cooper, seriously, what the hell …”

“I think I’m going to take off too,” Sebastian interrupted, arms crossed and expression drawn.

Blaine wavered. “We can just turn in for the night --”

“No, you go, have fun,” Sebastian said. “I’m just going to walk around. I need some more fresh air.”

“If you’re sure …”

“I’m sure.” Sebastian waved lazily, and with a final, lingering look at Blaine, he turned on his heel and walked off. Blaine, watching the line of his shoulders, was struck then by the sudden image of Sebastian heading back to the motel, grabbing his bag, and taking off again. Sticking out his thumb and hitchhiking off to god knows where with god knows who and then becoming nothing more than an occasional Facebook update. Digital acquaintances could be synonymous with strangers.

Blaine’s voice locked in his throat and he took a half-step as if to chase after Sebastian, but Rachel squeezed his arm.

“ _We_ are dancing,” she said firmly, pouting after Cooper, who was flagging down a cab. Blaine searched for Sebastian again but he was already gone, around a corner, into a shop, off to -- “Blaine?”

“Sorry.” Blaine looked at her, guilt bubbling in him. “Should I have let Sebastian go? He seems kind of down …”

“Which is why he wants some alone time,” she said gently, something even softer lingering in her gaze as she surveyed him. “But you and I want to dance. Okay?”

Blaine _did_ want to. But he didn’t want to want to. Why? This was stupid. He girded himself, stood straighter, nodded.

“Let’s dance, then.”

\--

His feet ached, his throat was hoarse, and he thought he might pass out before they got back to the motel because his eyelids felt like they weighed ten pounds apiece.

Rachel was already slumped against him in the cab, snuffling a little in her sleep as she drooled on his shoulder. It was no wonder they were so exhausted; it had been Spanish music and 90s remixes all night. They had sung and danced until all that kept them standing was the twisting crowd pulsing around them, and the crowd had provided plenty of partners to dance with. Yet he was mindful that they were alone in a strange city together, and didn’t let her out of his sight. So they inevitably would come back together and slowdance when it made no sense to, because they were tired and simply wanted to lean on each other and sway. And with that everything faded away except for the sticky give of the nightclub floor beneath their feet and the comfortable weight of her in his arms.

People had probably thought they were dating, and that was one of those complicated things that required unpacking when he wasn’t so ready to collapse into the nearest bed he found.

Though really, all that mattered was that Rachel was his friend, and she cared for him, and he for her.

Blaine nudged her awake when they arrived with a fond smile, shifting her gently so he could pull his wallet out. “Rachel? Hey? We’re here.”

Rachel yawned, blinking slowly as Blaine paid the cabbie. They climbed out, Blaine holding Rachel’s heels in one hand and supporting her still half-asleep form with his other arm. As they walked up to their door he belatedly realized that Sebastian and Cooper had had the keys, and it was late, and they might be asleep. He hesitated before knocking softly.

The door opened immediately. Sebastian stood there, shirtless, in a pair of thin sleep pants. He gave Blaine a slow once-over like _he_ was the one half-naked.

“Have fun?”

“Yes.” Sebastian stepped aside, letting Blaine and Rachel in. The lights were off except for the bathroom one, which spilled out in a rectangle of yellow across the carpeted floor. Cooper was asleep, hugging his pillow to himself. The room was stifling, the A/C’s weak rattling just moving air but not cooling anything.

Sebastian took Rachel from Blaine, giving him a chance to put her shoes out of the way. Rachel mumbled in protest and Sebastian silently laughed at her. “Hey, Berry. Time for bed.”

“Bed,” Rachel murmured, giggling and nuzzling Sebastian’s chest. “Let’s sleep.”

Sebastian stared down at her like she was a strange limpet he’d carried home from the ocean, then looked up at Blaine.

“I think she wants you to take her to bed,” Blaine said dryly.

“Can’t blame her, everyone else does.” Sebastian winked, and picked Rachel up. She gasped, giggling some more, as Sebastian carried her to Cooper’s bed. Blaine watched, intrigued; Sebastian had been on board with Rachel’s bed sharing plan earlier that day. Now he tucked her in under only a sheet, considerate of the heat. “You are one slutty kitten of a drunk, little Berry …”

Did Sebastian want to sleep with Blaine, just sleep, that badly? Or did he just not want Rachel all over him?

“Mrr.” Rachel purred, then rolled over, burying her face against Cooper’s pillow and apparently going to sleep. Sebastian straightened, and he and Blaine shared a heavy look.

“I’m surprised you’re still up,” Blaine whispered after a moment. “Not tired?”

“I’m tired,” Sebastian said. He looked at Blaine inscrutably, and Blaine, too buzzed and exhausted himself to puzzle out the mystery of Sebastian that night shrugged and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when the door swung open and Sebastian entered, shutting the door quietly behind him.

They held eye contact for a breath, then Blaine bowed his head to spit out the toothpaste and rinse his mouth. Sebastian stepped closer, his hands sliding to bracket Blaine’s hips. Blaine watched as Sebastian leaned in, kissing the back of Blaine’s neck, once, twice, lingeringly so.

“I thought you were tired,” Blaine said softly.

“I am,” Sebastian replied, tugging Blaine’s collar down so he could place his hot mouth over Blaine’s birthmark and tease it with his tongue. Blaine exhaled shakily.

“Then …?”

“Take a bath?” Sebastian asked, resting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder, smiling indolently. “It’s too hot to sleep.”

“Sure.”

They ran the bath then stripped, hands stroking and sharing small kisses as they pushed and pulled their clothes off, leaving piles of fabric in their wake as they drifted to the tub. Sebastian sat back in it, creating ripples, and Blaine joined him, nested between Sebastian’s legs and leaning back against his chest. The water was lukewarm, perfect in the heat of the night, and Sebastian’s soapy fingers made slick trails down Blaine’s chest, his belly, his arms, his legs, tracing shapes. It didn’t really feel like foreplay, or even intent. It was touching simply to touch, and Blaine slumped bonelessly against the gentle assurement of it, eyes drifting shut as he smiled contentedly.

“You have magic hands,” he told Sebastian, voice thick with sleep.

After a long moment Sebastian chuckled, his arms curling around Blaine. “Remind me to give you a proper massage sometime, babe.”

Blaine laughed, nodding, and relaxed, if possible, even further.

\--

Cold water sprayed him in the face and Blaine awoke with a startled jerk.

Sputtering, Blaine ran a hand over his eyes, squinting and trying to see what the hell was happening. He was stiff and far too wet. “What the --?”

“Rise and shine, lovebirds,” Cooper’s voice said, and Sebastian groaned somewhere behind him. Blaine clumsily started to rise, but his legs were very much asleep and he was _naked_ \-- Blaine sat back down with a splash as the shower turned off, his face red.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, dumbass. You slept in the tub.”

Blaine couldn’t look up to meet Cooper’s eye. “A little privacy, please.”

Cooper scoffed, leaving. “Be fast,” he threw over his shoulder before he shut the door. “I really have to piss.”

The door shut with a click, and Blaine gingerly stood up, looking at his hands. “I’m a prune,” he despaired.

“Your ass still looks great,” Sebastian reported cheerily, and Blaine carefully stepped out of the tub on shaky legs with a groan.

“Jeez, thanks.” Blaine grabbed a towel, drying himself off and wrapping it around his waist, watching as Sebastian rose up out of the water with a great deal more grace, looking like some kind of water nymph. He stretched out his long body, yawning, and stepped out, taking the other towel.

“I’m definitely not driving today,” Sebastian observed, cricking his back with a wince. “I feel like I just got all folded up like the little Asian contortionist in _Ocean’s Eleven_.”

“I’m not sure that hurt for him, if he’s so used to it …”

“Speaking from experience, my little Asian contortionist?”

Blaine jabbed him. “Shut up, mayonnaise.”

Sebastian cracked up, and Cooper hammered on the door. “In three seconds I’m coming in there to pee and I don’t care who’s in there!”

“Keep your hair on,” Sebastian scoffed, under his breath. They gathered up their clothes just as Cooper swung the door open, and dodged out past him before they could witness anything horrific. Rachel looked up from where she was contemplating two dresses laid out on the bed, and smiled knowingly.

“You two look … clean.”

Blaine could offer no response but a blush.

\--

Sebastian, the coward, took off to get Starbucks after their morning run, leaving Blaine alone to catch the brunt of comments from Rachel and Cooper about the bathtub thing.

“You don’t think straight around him,” Cooper cautioned, clearly not finding it as amusing as Rachel did.

“That’s kind of the whole point,” Blaine retorted. “Gay, remember?”

“Not what I meant.”

“I don’t care what you meant.” And with that Blaine went to shower and get dressed. When Sebastian showed up with coffee for everyone, Blaine took his cup and went to sit in Kelly until it was time to leave.

\--

Blaine took the wheel for the two-hour drive to Fort Myers, Sebastian next to him, napping against the window.

They got to go over the Sky Bridge, Blaine briefly wishing he wasn’t driving so he could better appreciate the view from the high, narrow bridge as it cut a path through the sparkling expanse of the water. The city was winding and island-like, with even whiter beaches, palm trees, low buildings, and tanned tourists strolling around. It might not be spring break but there seemed to be a lot of college-aged kids around all the same, and the motels looked busy. So Blaine was inspired by the views to find an RV campground that opened up on a beach, and they got a spot for Kelly for the night.

After that they parted ways for the day in their respective pairs, Sebastian and Blaine heading out to see the Lee County Manatee Park (at Blaine’s behest) while Rachel and Cooper went shopping (a mutual decision.) There were some manatee statues in front of the park, a mama and a baby, that Blaine posed with while Sebastian took photos with exaggerated pretension.

“Excellent … the colour balance, ideal, the framing … superb …”

“You really know your stuff, mister,” Blaine said, letting go of the manatee he was hugging. “I should have paid you more than one dollar.”

“Oh?” Sebastian extended a hand, beckoning. “Pony up, then.”

Blaine took Sebastian by the hand, smiling winningly at him. “I’ll pay you with my good company.”

Sebastian smirked widely as the walked into the park proper, still holding hands. “I can think of  a few places to start with that. Ever heard of a reverse cowboy?”

Blaine feigned innocence. “A cowboy that lets a horse ride him?”

“Kinky, Anderson.”

Luckily it was the weekend so they could rent kayaks, which they took out onto the calm waters of the park. It was made up of maze-like channels that wove through the plant life, the rivers shallow and broad with sandy bottoms, and so clear they could see every animal that swam by beneath their boats, fish and turtles alike. There was also graceful cranes, a very cute marsh rabbit, and at one point a beaver that took off the moment it saw them, and the whole landscape was peaceful and quiet except for the dip of their paddles slicing through the water.

But there were no manatees.

Apparently they didn’t come out when the water was too hot, preferring to be in the park when it was cooler and they could warm up thanks to the output of the nearby hydro plant. Blaine was disappointed, despite the beauty of everything else.

“It’s okay,” he told Sebastian, after becoming inordinately excited then let down when he’d mistaken a log for one of the gentle creatures.

He was, admittedly, a little embarrassed. He’d never seen Sebastian get worked up like that.

“We’re going to find you one of those fat little sea cows,” Sebastian promised, getting a determined glint to his eyes.

“If they’re not around, they’re not around, Sebastian.”

“That’s a defeatist attitude.”

The ensuing Manatee Quest was frustrating; the sun was hot, Blaine was getting a little tired of paddling, and he was hungry. But every time he suggested they just turn back, Sebastian refused, stubbornly set on his goal. Nearly half an hour passed and Blaine was at the point of promising sexual favours if they could just get back on dry land when Sebastian froze and pointed with his paddle,

“Blaine,” he whispered, and it was odd enough to actually hear Sebastian say his name that Blaine set aside his grumpiness and followed Sebastian’s gaze.

Floating just beneath the surface was the soft, large brown shape of a manatee snuffling for food, her flippers stirring up the sand as she ran her muzzle through some pale vegetation. Blaine’s face broke into a wide grin, and his kayak gave a precarious wobble as he danced in place.

“Oh my gosh,” Blaine hissed, taking his camera out and getting a half-dozen pictures. With the manatee only five feet away and undisturbed by their presence, he got plenty of great shots. Then he set his camera down and just watched her, touched by the gentle aura she had, and how cute it was when she came up for air before getting back to eating.

“They’re closely related to elephants, you know,” Blaine told Sebastian, glancing over; Sebastian was gazing at him, not the manatee, a small smile on his face.

“Fat enough for it.” Sebastian chuckled. “But it’s cute.”

Their voices seemed to finally disturb her, or maybe there was no more sweet grass to eat, because the manatee started to slowly swim away. Blaine watched her go, then turned his attention back to Sebastian.

“Thank you, Sebastian.”

Something flickered across Sebastian’s face, and then he shrugged it off with a smile.

“Hey, I promised, didn’t I? Now come on, I’m starving.”

\--

The sunny afternoon melted into a dreamy sorbet sunset.

They had lunched and then swam to their heart’s fill, but then as evening fell they ended up just walking the beach, kicking up sand and bumping elbows as they talked. They’d always been able to talk -- in high school it had been like that, before everything. Early mornings on the phone, late nights online, and all the little texts in between. Blaine had been lonely, and Sebastian had made that better.

“Before everything.” That was the catch.

And everything had confirmed what he had already known: that he couldn’t let himself get too attached. Because there had been a timer on that relationship, endlessly ticking away to an explosion that scattered every conversation they’d ever had into senseless words that he couldn’t reconcile.

He wondered what high school Blaine would have thought about him and Sebastian now.

Then again, it wasn’t high school Blaine’s life anymore. It was his. And he was a different person now. Which … wasn’t a scary thought the way it might have once been, because he had all the room in the world to grow now.

“I’m alive,” he abruptly said, and Sebastian winked at him.

“‘I am, I am, I am’?” Sebastian nodded to a nearby hotel, where a poolside party was thriving to pounding music that echoed across the beach. “Wanna celebrate?”

Blaine grinned, and followed Sebastian up the sand to a place where thick palms created a shadowy ladder to help scale the fence. They slipped into the crowds like they’d been there from the start and Blaine laughed at their boldness.

“We could have just gone in through the lobby.”

“If it’s all-inclusive? Nah.” Sebastian nudged him. “Besides, this is more fun.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Of course you can’t.”

Sebastian threw an arm over Blaine’s shoulders and they dove into the beating heart of the party where people undulated on masse to the beats the DJ was spinning. Blaine pressed up against Sebastian, smiling up at him as they danced. It was humid in a way that pressed a hot hand of storm promises down across their heads and dripped sweat down their backs, and he was hit by a wave of light-headedness as he watched the way Sebastian’s sharp gaze scanned the party, taking in everything.

Then Sebastian returned his attention to Blaine, smirking.

“I’m going to get drinks,” he said, and pressed a quick kiss to Blaine’s temple before he slipped away.

Left alone, Blaine peeled away from the many-headed beast of the dance floor to cool off, and came to circle the edges. The wind picked up, and he swore he could smell rain coming.

Blaine moved past an arrangement of white deck chairs filled with laughing, drinking people and found the fence that faced the beach. He leaned against it, looking out over the sand and water. There were clouds on the horizon, but he could still see moon and stars. Maybe he’d talk Sebastian into a night swim; a little dangerous, but they’d look out for each other.

Behind him the DJ shouted “IT’S ALWAYS BRILLIANT IN THE SUNSHINE STATE!” before blasting a mash-up of Mos Def’s _Sunshine_ and Rihanna’s _Diamonds_. He started to tap his foot.

“You okay?”

Blaine half-expected Sebastian, though the voice was wrong. It was a stranger, attractive in an approachable way, smile crooked.

“Yes.” Blaine straightened as the guy joined him at the fence. “Just worried about rain, I guess.”

“Welcome to ‘the sunshine state’,” the guy said with a laugh. “It rains near every day. Hard.”

“Rainy season?”

“Yep.”

“You’re a local?”

“Born and raised.”

“It’s a beautiful place to grow up,” Blaine said, looking around them. The moon was barely half-full but it shone like a lantern, its twin in ripples across the ocean, colliding with the warm reflected light cast off by the hotels that turned the sand a riot of colours. Everything was gorgeous, even at night.

“Definitely,” the guy said. “You just have to hope a spring breaker doesn’t show up and hurl in your garden.”

Blaine winced. “I’m sorry.”

“We throw eggs at them. Mean, but effective.”

“It _is_ your property.”

“Exactly.” The guy cast a once-over along Blaine’s body, and Blaine wasn’t quite sure if it was on the edge of too-friendly, but then again, one man casually approaching another like this was already on that edge. “So where are you from? Not a tourist destination, I’m guessing, you’re a little too surprised at how inconsiderate visitors can be …”

“Ohio,” Blaine said, which was enough. The guy groaned.

“Oh, man, _I’m_ sorry. That must have sucked.”

“All I can say is, I haven’t asked myself _Why oh why did I leave Ohio_ quite yet.”

The guy looked at him blankly. “Uh …?”

“ _Wonderful Town?_ ‘ _Ohio_ ’? Doris Day?”

“I don’t know that album, sorry.”

“It’s a musical,” Blaine explained. “Basically, she’s singing about how she left Ohio for New York and wasn’t happy about it, before she gets her groove back in the city.”

“Okay, cool.” The guy nodded a little too fast. Blaine suspected he’d bored him, but to be fair the guy did try to rally himself. “Who’d complain about that, though? It’s a total trade up. I mean. _Ohio_.”

Blaine felt a twinge of annoyance. Making fun of Ohio was very much an Ohioan ex-pat thing, and everyone knew New York was a hard place to make it!

“It is,” Blaine said after a moment. “I went there after high school.”

“Very cool. Still there?”

“L.A., actually.”

“Actor?”

“Traveller,” Blaine replied, an answer he hadn’t thought of before but came out so easily it had to be the truth. He smiled, pleased.

“Travelling alone?”

“My brother and two friends. We have this old RV, we’re driving around in her.”

“Awesome.” The guy abruptly offered Blaine his drink. “Thirsty?”

“Uh. No, thank you.”

“If it’s a germ thing I can go get a new one, I know that can be kind of nasty with someone you just met --”

“I’m okay,” Blaine said, smiling politely. “I’m actually going to get back to the party, but thank you.”

He walked back to the party. He could have said he already had drinks coming and was with someone, which was true, but it didn’t feel necessary. What he did need? want? to do was find Sebastian. But he couldn’t see him, for all Sebastian was generally easy to spot, being so tall. So he dived back into the party, as Donna Summer chanted in the air.

 _Ooh_  
_Fallin' free, fallin' free_  
_Fallin' free, fallin' free_  
_Fallin' free  
_ _Ooh_

 _You and me, you and me_  
_You and me, you and me  
_ _You and me_

 _Ooh_  
_I feel love, I feel love_  
_I feel love, I feel love  
__I feel love_  

Blaine waded through the pool and checked out the swim-up bar, but Sebastian wasn’t there either. He climbed out and nearly fell back in when someone jostled him, but a girl grabbed his arm and hauled him up.

“Careful, honey!”

“Thank you!”

He would have chatted more because nice drunk girls were basically some of the best people ever, but then he spotted the guy he had been talking to earlier and had to dive to hide behind some tall guy. He was peeking out around the guy’s shoulder to see if he was in the clear when a low voice spoke in his ear, an arm snaking around his waist.

“Are we playing hide and seek, hot stuff?”

“Sebastian!” Blaine turned, relieved. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“You did. But only for a little while.” Sebastian handed Blaine a cup then looked around the busy party with disdain. “Drink up, then let’s go. This place is dead.”

Blaine shook his head, smiling, and then took a deep breath before he chugged the purple-and-vodka tasting drink. Shuddering in the aftershock of the warmth blowing up in his chest, he followed Sebastian out of the crowds and over the fence once more, into the night.

\--

There was a faint drizzle in the air the next morning; the rain last night had never come, but forecasts said it would pour today.

Blaine took his morning coffee (burnt, because Cooper had made it, and he liked it a little overcooked) and headed down to the beach, sitting on a log and looking out over the water, which had some mist clinging to its still surface. It was at odds of his mental image of sunny Florida, but it was beautiful. Rachel joined him with a herbal tea soon after, looking exhausted -- odd, since she and Cooper had claimed the loft, so they’d been a sight more comfortable than Sebastian and Blaine on the floor. Not to mention the awkwardness of sharing a room with Cooper at the moment in general; at one point Blaine had sworn he’d heard Cooper mutter something about how Sebastian was too tall for Blaine anyways and Rachel had shushed him. Blaine wondered if he should ask, but decided not to put Rachel in an awkward position.

Instead, he offered a cheerful, “Good morning.”

Rachel sniffed, sipping her tea. “Hi.”

Blaine paused at her tone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Like he believed that. Blaine frowned. “What’s wrong, Rachel?”

“It doesn’t matter …”

“Of course it does.”

There was a long pause as Rachel looked out over the sea.

“I called my dads last night,” she said, slowly rotating her mug, one of the smooth white ones from Cooper’s apartment back in L.A. -- when Blaine looked at it he was suddenly back there, Cooper sliding a mug across the table at him when he’d first arrived, asking, _“Movie night? Your pick_.” The memory brought a wave of tenderness with it, and Blaine had to look away. “They’re going to sell the house.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Blaine rubbed her back sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t even live there anymore,” she said, then looked at him, mouth trembling. “But it’s where I grew up. It’s -- home.”

“I know,” Blaine said softly. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, for lack of anything better to say.

“It’s okay,” she replied, leaning into him. “I just --” her voice tightened, and she fell silent.

Blaine tugged her closer, hugging her. “We can make new homes.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding against his shoulder. “We can.”

There was a shift in the sand behind them; Blaine looked to see Cooper, turned and walking away.

\--

They left Fort Myers for Fort Lauderdale, and the skies opened up.

Kelly shook and rattled underneath the deluge that pounded against her metal frame, a loud pattering that made it sound like they were driving through a rock tumbler. There was no end to it either, as storm clouds rolled overhead for the hours they drove. Blaine leaned against the bookshelf with laptop in hand, typing up a journal entry; Sebastian mirrored him, their feet entangled, as he read another one of his mysterious novels ( _Emmanuelle_ ; it was in French, and the cover looked rather erotic but Blaine guessed it was more of a cosmopolitan European thing than outright porn.) In the kitchen Rachel clattered away, humming to herself as she made a late breakfast, mood apparently improved. Cooper drove, and Blaine found himself looking at him more than a few times.

 _On way to Fort Lauderdale_ _  
_ _August 3rd, 2014_

_Cooper and I were raised by the same parents. Basically._

_Our mom married my dad four years before I was born, so Cooper barely remembers life before him. But it was much harder for them than it was for me, people thinking my dad was up to something fishy when he picked Coop up from school, that kind of thing. They fought so much before Cooper left and now they almost never talk. Like we don’t have the same dad just because of blood. I know it brings my dad down. Mom, too. She only ever wanted us to be a family._

_Cooper used to say I was an accident. That I was unwanted. Stupid kid stuff._

_I still think about it sometimes, though._

“You should talk to him.”

“Huh?” Blaine looked over. Sebastian had an eyebrow raised.

“Your brother.”

“I don’t want to.”

Sebastian’s other eyebrow went up. “You keep stealing glances at him like you’re waiting to be asked to the dance.”

“First off, ew, second off, I’m just ... thinking.”

“Right, well, you could think up there --”

Blaine’s brow furrowed. “Leave it, okay?”

“I just --”

“Sebastian.” They both looked to Rachel, who got up. “Can you help me in the kitchen?”

“There’s a jar opener under the cupboard you know --”

“Sebastian,” she repeated, rather unsubtly tipping her head to the kitchen then glancing at Blaine, wide-eyed. “Come here.”

Sebastian paused, glanced at Blaine as well, then got up. Blaine watched him join Rachel into the kitchen, baffled. It wasn’t like there was much privacy to be had back there. Yet all he could hear when Sebastian got there was Rachel bossing him around, putting him to work chopping up nuts and Sebastian making his usual innuendos. Blaine shook his head, and returned his attention to his laptop, pulling up a game to play and putting his earbuds in.

He decided he didn’t want to hear anything, anyways.

\--

It was still raining when they arrived, thick sheets that drowned the streets and made seeing much of anything impossible past the silvery waterfall that poured from the cloudy skies above.

“This is bullshit,” Sebastian said gloomily, hand stuck out the door, watching rain trail along his arm, soaking his sleeve. Cooper and Rachel were inside the nearby Starbucks, grabbing them some real coffee. “We’re at one of the best beach cities in the country and it’s dumping on us.”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, leaning against the doorframe next to him, catching a hint of spray against his face. “Well, I’m sure there’s other stuff to do.”

Sebastian groaned. “I want to _swim_.”

“It might clear up,” Blaine said, just as lightning crashed a white line across the dark clouds and thunder tore the sky so loudly that it made his ears ring. He waited for it to die down before he spoke. “Or we could stay another day! It should be better tomorrow.”

“Nope,” Sebastian said. “Your charming brother’s back on his faster, pussycat, drive, drive mood.”

“Can’t wait for this trip to be over, probably,” Blaine said, drooping a little. “It hasn’t been very fun for him the past few days.”

“His own fault.” Sebastian pressed his wet hand to Blaine’s cheek, turning him into a kiss. “Let’s go find something else to do.”

He smirked suggestively, and Blaine raised an eyebrow, seeing right through that. “We can do that anytime. But we’re only here for today. I want to see things.”

“I can show you things,” Sebastian teased. “Very exciting things.”

“Things I can take pictures of?”

“My, my ... that’s encouraged, actually.”

“And send to my mom?”

Sebastian’s nose wrinkled. “Oh. Boring.”

“My professional photographer shouldn’t talk like that.”

“But you’re my muse,” Sebastian said. “And all good artists do what the art demands, not the other way around.”

“If I’m your muse, then I’m your art, in which case I can demand whatever I want, can’t I?”

“Is that so?” Sebastian’s hand slid to caress the back of Blaine’s neck, voice dropping. “Demand away, then.”

Blaine shivered, glancing out over the soaked street then back to Sebastian. “How long do you think the lines at the Starbucks are?”

“Long enough.” Sebastian tugged him away from the open door, closing it. “C’mon.”

Blaine headed for the loft but Sebastian pulled him into the tiny bathroom instead, their bodies pressed together, no room for so much as a breath between them. Blaine tipped his head back, trying to make eye contact, but Sebastian took tight hold of him by the hips and lifted him up, backing him up on the sink. He then leaned away to turn the shower on, and Blaine didn’t appreciate the distance. So he grabbed fistfuls of Sebastian’s shirt, yanking him against his mouth and between his legs, kissing him messily as Sebastian one-handedly tugged the door shut. He was grinning against Blaine’s mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Blaine mumbled, and Sebastian dragged his teeth down Blaine’s jaw to suck a kiss on his pulse point, injecting heat into his veins that grew and twined.

“Here I’ve been thinking that sleeping with you was moving me _away_ from bathroom quickies …”

Blaine pulled back. “Our first time was in a bathroom,” he pointed out.

“Huh.” Sebastian got Blaine’s pants open and slipped his hand inside, sounding far too smug as his fingers curled, earning a thready gasp from Blaine. “Should we stop?”

“No, no, definitely not.”

“Are you sure?” Sebastian asked lowly against Blaine’s neck as his thumb started to move in a lazy, firm stroke along Blaine’s dick, and Blaine glowered as he panted.

“You literally have me by the balls, jerk, so --”

Sebastian squeezed and Blaine groaned, his hips jerking. “Good point. You’re a smart one, Anderson.”

“I try.” Blaine dragged his hand down for a little revenge, though he wasn’t quite as good at undoing belts one-handed as Sebastian the master. Sebastian sensed this, and chuckling he moved to help. Soon Blaine had his hand wrapped around Sebastian’s heavy cock, tugging him free so he could start a slow, sure pace. “I wish we had a hotel room.”

“What?” Sebastian asked, and Blaine was satisfied by the hitch in Sebastian’s voice, the faint flush rising high on his cheeks. “Fully clothed handies don’t get you going?”

Blaine laughed breathlessly. “It gets me going, sure, so much so I wanna -- _oh_ \-- take it to a bed so you can fuck me properly.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened, and then he was kissing Blaine again, open-mouthed and dirty. Blaine moved with the tidal wave energy of it, head thumping against the mirror as he drew his arm around the back of Sebastian’s neck, holding him close. They curved together, hands jerking in shallow movements between their bodies, the steam of the shower the only thing between them as it curled its fingers hungrily around, between, over, under them, hotly fogging up the air.

Blaine’s whole body was spiking higher and higher when Sebastian abruptly pulled away, mouth reddened and voice ragged. “You know I can go book us a hotel room right now --”

“If you move an inch you’ll be in that room alone,” Blaine threatened, and Sebastian exhaled roughly, a world of heady promise in his eyes, before he kissed Blaine again.

Sebastian’s hand squeezed, wrist twisting, and Blaine moaned, sound lost in the rattle of the shower and their heavy breathing. Sebastian’s tongue curled against Blaine’s, teasing lightly in sweet contrast to the solid press and hold of him everywhere else. Blaine ground his hips in jerky little circles, thrusting into the tight hole of Sebastian’s fist, sucking on Sebastian’s tongue as he came, shuddering and arching up against Sebastian’s strong chest. Sebastian groaned, and shifted, letting go of Blaine’s dick to curl his hand around his own, around Blaine’s hand as well, moving them together in short, fast strokes, head tipped forward as he panted, Blaine’s mouth pressed wetly to Sebastian’s forehead. He _felt_ the minute tensing of Sebastian’s whole body when he came with a grunt.

“Jesus,” Sebastian said after a moment, barking out a laugh. “You know, quick and dirty handjobs with you are better than most anything else I’ve had.”

Blaine smiled lazily, unsticking himself from the sweaty, steamy, tangled mess they’d become. “I like that.”

“You should.” Sebastian tried to stretch, and winced when his hands hit the ceiling. He turned around to shut off the shower and Blaine burst out laughing. “What?”

“Your back,” Blaine said, and Sebastian looked over his shoulder, then grinned himself. His back and legs were wet -- clearly the shower had gotten him. “You didn’t notice?”

“I _was_ a little distracted at the time.”

“I like that, too.” Blaine hesitated, then added, “I like _you_.”

Sebastian’s response came almost too easily, all things considered.

“Yeah, champ, I like you too.”

And what the hell did you do with _that?_

\--

Cooper and Rachel (sitting up front, blasting music and drinking coffee) clearly knew exactly what had been going on in the bathroom, but much to Blaine’s surprise Cooper didn’t say a word.

Maybe it was because when he got up Rachel got up too and ended up clinging to him, chest pushed up against his arm in a way Blaine had noted girls tended to do when they were steering their boyfriends like show ponies.

 _Thank you, Rachel,_ he mentally signalled to her, and with the understanding that made them such great stage partners, she winked back.

Sebastian was, of course, shameless, though he kept a healthy distance between him and Cooper as he grinned widely and declared:

“So … what do we do today? I’m feeling … _energized_.”

\--

They ended up at the International Swimming Hall of Fame, and after peeking in on the Olympic-level swimming pool, they ended up browsing quiet exhibits of medals and suits and photographs in glass cases against white walls.

It was interesting enough, but Baine was already thinking about their next destination. It didn’t help that swimming wasn’t a sport he’d ever been particularly intrigued by, though all the pictures of half-naked guys dripping with water were more than welcome. As was Sebastian leaning in to breathe in his ear, “I used to wear a speedo just like that for competitions. Maybe I’ll dig it out again for you if you ask very, very nicely.” And Blaine had been left flushed and warm and wishing they had a separate hotel room for the night because _seriously._

He absently thought he’d never been this horny for someone in his life, which should maybe make him feel guilty, but all he felt was free.

After that they went to the Museum of Art, which was already plenty beautiful on the outside, curved and strong and featuring sculptures. One of the large white walls also had a funky dripping pattern painted on its side like a blanket had been draped on the roof, its colours so bright even the rain couldn’t dampen it. The rain _had_ dampened them however; even with umbrellas in hand and doing their best to leap across puddles they still caught the consequences of the storm. (It didn’t help that Blaine had detoured to admire the outside, with Sebastian, who complained the whole time about melting but still took full advantage of the fact that they were sharing an umbrella to hold Blaine very close.) As they entered and Sebastian bought their tickets, Blaine looked mournfully down at his shoes, which looked water-stained.

He really should have just worn his tennis shoes, but he and Kurt had always agreed that doing that outside of exercise should have been the dictionary definition of “tacky.”

“These cost two hundred dollars,” he said plaintively to Sebastian, who was of course bemused as he handed Blaine his ticket.

“They’re shoes, you could probably get a pair just like that at Payless.”

“I could _not_ ,” Blaine said, as they entered the gallery proper, “and you can’t act like you would ever shop there. Your wardrobe is all labels.”

“My mom buys them. Or they’re Christmas gifts. I don’t exactly hit up the mall.” Sebastian tugged on the collar of his shirt. “And I guess she has good taste or whatever.”

“You do look handsome,” Blaine said, and Sebastian’s hands dropped from their fidgeting and a pleased smile flicked across his face. Had Sebastian been feeling insecure? It wasn’t a word he’d ever associate with Sebastian, but then again, he’d never have called him introverted either. Maybe Blaine’s opinion mattered to Sebastian, even on a topic Blaine was _sure_ Sebastian was mentally labelling ‘too gay.’

“You have good taste too,” Sebastian told Blaine, his smile now mischievous, and took Blaine’s hand as they came to a stop at the first painting. Blaine was very aware that they’d been doing a lot of hand-holding of late, and in his fascination with Sebastian’s hands (so very him, strong and agile and clever, the occasional beauty mark along a swoop of his palm) he found he had no problem with it. It could have been confusing, but Blaine was determined not to overthink it. Instead he squeezed Sebastian’s hand and smiled at how Sebastian squeezed back.

“So this is a joke, right? I mean, _clowns?_ Who paints clowns except for serial killers?”

“You don’t think they’re cheerful?”

“I know you’re Mr. Blue Sky, but even you can’t think these aren’t creepy.”

“... Okay, yes, it’s creepy.”

Laughing, they moved on to the next one, and Sebastian continued to critique each art piece like he was a supervising editor of _Art Review_. It was funny, but Blaine had to keep looking around to make sure they weren’t offending or annoying anyone in earshot, since he had this nightmare image of one of the artists being at the gallery that day and this breaking their spirit.

They were alone, though. They’d already lost Cooper and Rachel and it seemed the rain had turned down attendance because the only other people there looked to also be tourists, seeking diversion during the storm, and there weren’t many of them -- Blaine was sure more were at the casino. All the better; Blaine had found trips to the MoMA a little stifling because of the crowds. _Starry Night_ had filled him with powerful, unnameable emotions, ones which hindsight had coalesced into _understanding_ , but it had also been intruded on by the dozens of people around it, taking pictures and jostling him in search of a better angle. _There are pictures online_ , he’d wanted to shout, but tamped it down and let Kurt tug him away, trying to shake his sudden melancholia so he could share Kurt’s excitement about the beautiful use of colour in the next painting.

 _“A shirt with that pattern_ ,” Kurt had said, eyes bright and lovely with possibility. “ _Don’t you think?_ ”

And Blaine had only needed to smile and nod and sometimes it had been so, so easy.

“Deep thoughts, Anderson?”

Blaine glanced over at Sebastian, who was giving Blaine’s hand another squeeze and looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Blaine knew why; he had agreed with Sebastian’s assessment of the painting (a little cottage by the sea which was “so over-produced I bet they just bought it from Pottery Barn”) and thus had no reason to be thinking it over too much.

“I was thinking about … the MoMA.”

“Ah.” Sebastian’s nose wrinkled briefly. “New York.” He looked back at the painting and with a casual air said, “That place was too crowded.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agreed, a surprised smile flickering across his face. “It was.”

“But that’s the problem with doing touristy crap. You know how I made Paris a home instead of just a pitstop? I went where nobody else did.”

Blaine looked around the near-empty gallery, then back to Sebastian, unsure if this qualified. The old worry, of boring Sebastian, swept over him again.

“Then let’s find a place like that,” Blaine said, stepping away and tugging Sebastian along with him. “Just you and me.”

Now it was Sebastian’s turn to smile, surprised, and the gaze he offered Blaine as he followed Blaine out of the gallery was one that slipped in with careful ease underneath Blaine’s skin. It sank deep and touched somewhere inside him as thoroughly and as unfathomably as the golden spirals beckoning across a blue nighttime sky had, once upon a time. Blaine could think of maybe-names for it, but none of them really did it justice. Some things were better expressed in finding a little hidey-hole bookshop and café, in having his hand held across the driftwood table, in ordering a ridiculously large bowl-shaped cup of coffee with extra whipped cream for the blatant excuse to have the lingering sweetness kissed off his mouth, in picking up a book and reading it aloud amidst snarky comments and teasing asides.

Some things simply -- were.

_tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter on tumblr [HERE](http://boldmistakes.tumblr.com/post/163842966051/but-well-still-have-the-summer-after-all-chapter).
> 
> Songs this chapter: Beyoncé's _[No Angel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7PPjEB2QZQ)_ , John Legend's _[All of Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mk7-GRWq7wA)_ , a quote from Wicked's _[Defying Gravity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVodzpHrCfw)_ , Nine Inch Nail's _[Closer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccY25Cb3im0)_ , Nick Drake's _[Time Has Told Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cche-h83qNQ)_ (a song I have previously used during a Seblaine-as-Brittana RP where that was their _Landslide_ , no less! it's one of my favourite love songs, so like, same Sebastian), Steve Miller Band's _[Fly Like An Eagle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1f7eZ8cHpM)_ , a mash-up for Mos Def's _[Sunshine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDlt4USHFnA)_ and Rihanna's _[Diamonds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1WifEFI6eK8)_ that only exists in my head, and Donna Summer's _[I Feel Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g0tenPCmHFk)_.
> 
> Sebastian's "I am, I am, I am" is a quote from Sylvia Path's _The Bell Jar_ , the full quote being “I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.”
> 
> The signs in Ybor City [HERE](http://l7.alamy.com/zooms/b9c65961b5b84465bba5706650564a5d/ybor-city-is-a-popular-tourist-cuban-american-part-of-tampa-florida-dffhnb.jpg), the Columbia Restaurant is [HERE](http://www.columbiarestaurant.com/Locations/Ybor-City-Historic-District/Columbia-Ybor-City-Patio-from-Balcony-view-2.jpg), the manatee statues [HERE](https://di-uploads-pod5.s3.amazonaws.com/landroverfortmyers/uploads/2016/06/Lee-County-Manatee-Park.jpg), the Sky Bridge is [HERE](https://ssl.c.photoshelter.com/img-get2/I0000NE2dCgiG4Lc/fit=1000x750/Florida-Fort-Myers-Beach-Matanzas-Pass-Bridge.jpg), the Museum of Art mural [HERE](http://artdistricts.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/museum-of-art-fort-lauderdale-photo-by-robin-hill-c-lo-res-4.jpg).
> 
> Also, shout-out to Matt and Lea for reinforcing what an attractive couple Cooper and Rachel would be [HERE](http://www.gettyimages.ca/event/amazon-prime-video-premiere-of-original-drama-series-the-last-tycoon-in-los-angeles-775012648?esource=SEO_GIS_CDN_Redirect#lea-michele-and-matt-bomer-at-the-amazon-prime-video-premiere-of-the-picture-id823786628)!


End file.
